A  GENTLEMAN   PLAYER 


Works  of 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 


An  Enemy  to  the  King; 

(Twentieth  Thousand) 

The  Continental  Dragoon 

(Seventeenth  Thousand) 

The  Road  to  Paris 

(Sixteenth  Thousand) 

A  Gentleman  Player 

(Sixth  Thousand) 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND   COMPANY,  Publishers 

(Incorporated) 
196  Summer  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


QUEEX    ELIZABETH    AND    HARRY    MARRYOTT. 

(See  page  &f.) 


GENTLEMAN    PLAYER 


{0  gto&enturw  on  a  Secret  fHission  for 
(Queen  lilijabeti) 


BY 
ROBERT   NEILSON   STEPHENS 

AUTHOR  OF 

"AN   ENEMY  TO  THE  KING,"  "THE 

CONTINENTAL  DRAGOON,"  "THE 

ROAD  TO  PARIS,"  ETC. 


And  each  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts." 

—  As  You  Like  It. 


BOSTON 

L.    C.    PAGE   AND   COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 

1899 


Copyright, 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


Coimttal  Press: 

Eiectrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE  OF  "HAMLET"  .       n 

II.  AT  THE  TAVERNS  ......       36 

III.  QUEEN  AND  WOMAN      .....       69 

IV.  THE  UNEXPECTED 93 

V.  THE  PLAYER  PROVES  HIMSELF  A  GENTLEMAN     104 

VI.  AND  THE   GENTLEMAN  PROVES  HIMSELF  A 

PLAYER    .         .        .         .        .        .         .116 

VII.  MISTRESS  ANNE  HAZLEHURST       .        .        .129 

VIII.  "A  DEVIL  OF  A  WOMAN"    .         .        .         .137 

IX.  THE  FIRST  DAY  OF  THE  FLIGHT          .        .152 

X.  THE  LOCKED  DOOR       .        .        .        .             174 

XI.  WINE  AND  SONG    .        .        .         .        .        .184 

XII.  THE  CONSTABLE  OF  CLOWN.        .         .        .     199 

XIII.  THE  PRISONER  IN  THE  COACH      .         .         .     220 

XIV.  How  THE  PAGE  WALKED  IN  His  SLEEP     .     233 
XV.  TREACHERY     .        .        .        .        .         .         .251 

XVI.     FOXBY  HALL 276 

XVII.     A  WOMAN'S  VICTORY 295 

XVIII.  THE  HORSEMEN  ARRIVE        ....     309 

XIX.  THE  HORSEMEN  DEPART       ....     320 

XX.  ROGER  BARNET  SITS  DOWN  TO  SMOKE  SOME 

TOBACCO 332 

7 


CONTENTS. 


XXI.     ROGER  BARNET  CONTINUES  TO  SMOKE  TO 
BACCO       ....                          •  342 
XXII.     SPEECH  WITHOUT  WORDS     .        .                .  360 

XXIII.  THE  LONDON  ROAD 368 

XXIV.  How  A  NEW  INCIDENT  WAS  ADDED  TO  AN 

OLD  PLAY 375 

XXV.     SIR  HARRY  AND  LADY  MARRYOTT       .        .  398 

NOTES  4°9 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH  AND  HARRY  MARRYOTT       Frontispiece 

"SHE    GAVE    NO    OUTWARD    SIGN    OF    ANGER"          .  .190 

"  THE   BRAZEN    NOTES    CLOVE    THE    AIR  "...       267 
"  RUMNEY    .    .    .    BACKED     QUICKLY     TO     THE     WINDOW, 

AND    MOUNTED    THE    LEDGE"         ....      327 


A   GENTLEMAN    PLAYER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    FIRST    PERFORMANCE    OF    "  HAMLET." 

"  Who  ever  loved  that  loved  not  at  first  sight?  "  —  Quoted  in  "As  You  Like 
It"  from  Marlowe 'j  "Hero  and  Leander." 

AT  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  cold  first 
Monday  in  March,  1601,  a  red  flag  rose,  and  a 
trumpet  sounded  thrice,  from  a  little  gabled  turret 
protruding  up  out  of  a  large  wooden  building  in  a 
field  in  that  part  of  Southwark  known  as  the  Bank- 
side  and  bordering  on  the  Thames  west  of  London 
Bridge.  This  rude  edifice,  or  enclosure,  was  round 
(not  like  its  successor,  hexagonal)  in  shape  ;  was  in 
great  part  roofless  ;  was  built  on  a  brick  and  stone 
foundation,  and  was  encircled  by  a  ditch  for  drainage. 
It  was,  in  fact,  the  Globe  Theatre ;  and  the  flag  and 
trumpet  meant  that  the  "  Lord  Chamberlain's  ser 
vants  "  were  about  to  begin  their  performance,  which, 
as  the  bill  outside  the  door  told  in  rough  letters,  was 


12  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

to  be  that  of  a  new  "Tragicall  Historic  of  Hamlet 
Prince  of  Denmark,"  written  by  William  Shakes 
peare.  London  folk  knew  this  Master  Shakespeare 
well  as  one  of  the  aforesaid  "  servants,"  as  the  maker 
of  most  of  the  plays  enacted  now  by  those  servants, 
and,  which  was  deemed  far  more  to  his  honor,  as  the 
poet  of  "  Venus  and  Adonis "  and  "  The  Rape  of 
Lucrece."  Many  who  read  the  playbill  guessed 
rightly  that  the  new  "  tragicall  historic  "  was  based 
in  part  upon  another  author's  old  play,  which  they 
had  seen  performed  many  times  in  the  past.1 

The  audience,  in  all  colours  and  qualities  of  doublet 
and  hose,  ruff  and  cloak,  feathered  hat  and  plain  cap 
and  scholar's  coif,  had  awaited  noisily  the  parting  of 
the  worsted  curtains  of  the  stage  projecting  from 
one  side  of  the  circular  interior  of  the  barnlike 
playhouse.  Around  the  other  sides  were  wooden 
galleries,  and  under  these  was  a  raised  platform 
divided  into  boxes  called  "rooms,"  whose  fronts 
were  hung  with  painted  cloth.  The  stage  and  the 
actors'  tiring-room  behind  it  were  under  a  roof  of 
thatch.  The  boxes  had  the  galleries  for  cover.  But 
the  great  central  O-shaped  space,  known  as  the 
"yard,"  where  self -esteeming  citizens,  and  assertive 
scholars,  and  black-robed  lawyers,  and  burly  soldiers, 
and  people  of  countless  occupations,  and  people  of 
no  occupation  at  all,  stood  and  crowded  and  surged 
and  talked  and  chaffed,  and  bought  fruit  and  wine 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     13 

and  beer  from  the  clamorous  venders,  had  no  ceiling 
but  the  sky.  It  had  no  floor  but  the  bare  ground, 
and  no  seats  whatever. 

The  crowd  in  this  so-called  "yard  "  was  expectant. 
The  silk  and  velvet  gentry  sitting  in  the  boxes,  some 
of  whom  smoked  pipes  and  ogled  the  few  citizenesses 
in  the  better  gallery,  were  for  the  most  part  prepared 
to  be,  or  to  seem,  bored.  The  solid  citizens  in  gal 
lery  and  yard  were  manifestly  there  to  get  the  worth 
of  their  eightpence  or  sixpence  apiece,  in  solid  enter 
tainment.  The  apple-chewing,  nut-cracking,  fighting 
apprentices  and  riff-raff  in  the  topmost  gallery  were 
turbulently  ready  for  fun  and  tumult,  whether  in  the 
play  or  of  their  own  making.  In  the  yard  a  few 
self-reliant  women,  not  of  the  better  order,  and  some 
of  them  smoking  like  men,  struggled  to  hold  their 
own  amidst  the  hustling  throng.  Two  or  three 
ladies,  disdaining  custom  and  opinion,  or  careless  or 
ignorant  thereof,  were  present,  sitting  in  boxes ;  but 
they  wore  masks. 

Now  and  then,  before  the  performance  began, 
some  young  foppish  nobleman,  scented,  feathered, 
bejewelled,  armed  with  gilt-hilted  rapier  in  velvet 
sheath,  and  sporting  huge  rosettes  on  his  shoes, 
would  haughtily,  or  disdainfully,  or  flippantly,  make 
his  way  to  the  lords'  room,  which  was  the  box 
immediately  overlooking  the  stage  ;  or  would  pass 
to  a  place  on  the  rush-covered  stage  itself,  he  or  his 


14  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

page  bearing  thither  a  three-legged  stool,  hired  of  a 
theatre  boy  for  sixpence.  There,  on  similar  stools 
at  the  sides  of  the  stage,  he  would  find  others  of  his 
kind,  some  idly  chatting,  some  playing  cards  ;  and 
could  hear,  through  the  rear  curtains  of  arras  screen 
ing  the  partition  behind  the  stage,  the  talk  and 
movements  of  the  players  in  their  tiring-room,  hurry 
ing  the  final  preparations  for  the  performance. 

One  of  these  gallants,  having  lighted  his  pipe, 
said,  lispingly,  to  another,  and  with  a  kind  of  snigger 
in  the  expression  of  his  mouth  : 

"  'Twill  be  a  long  time  ere  my  lord  of  Southamp 
ton  shall  again  sit  here  seeing  his  friend  Will's 
plays." 

Southampton,  indeed,  was  in  the  Tower  for  com 
plicity  in  the  insurrection  of  his  friend,  the  Earl  of 
Essex,  who  had  died  on  the  block  in  February,  and 
whose  lesser  fellow  conspirators  were  now  having 
their  trials. 

"  A  long  time  ere  any  of  us  may  see  Will's  plays 
here,  after  this  week,"  answered  the  other  lord, 
dropping  the  rush  with  which  he  had  been  tickling 
a  third  lord's  ear.  "  Don't  you  know,  the  chamber 
lain's  actors  are  ordered  to  travel,  for  having  played 
'  Richard  the  Second '  for  the  Essex  men  when  the 
conspiracy  was  hatching  ? " 2 

"Why,  I've  been  buried  in  love,  —  a  pox  on  the 
sweet  passion  !  —  dallying  at  the  feet  of  a  gentle- 


THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     15 

woman  in  Blackfriars,  the  past  month ;  and  a  mur 
rain  take  me  if  I  know  what's  afoot  of  late ! " 

"  What  I've  told  you ;  and  that  is  why  we've  had 
so  many  different  plays  all  in  a  fortnight,  and  two 
new  ones  of  Will  Shakespeare's.  The  players  must 
needs  have  new  pieces  ready  for  the  country  towns, 
especially  for  the  universities.  These  chamberlain's 
actors  were  parlously  thick  with  the  Essex  plotters ; 
'tis  well  they  have  friends  at  court,  of  other  leanings, 
like  Wat  Raleigh,  —  else  they  might  find  themselves 
ordered  to  a  tower  instead  of  to  a  tour  !  " 

Ignoring  the  pun,  and  glancing  up  at  the  black 
drapery  with  which  the  stage  was  partly  hung,  the 
first  exquisite  remarked : 

"Will  Shakespeare  must  be  in  right  mood  for 
tragedy  nowadays,  —  his  friend  Southampton  in 
prison,  and  Essex  a  head  shorter,  and  himself 
ordered  to  the  country.  Burn  me  if  I  know  how 
a  high-hearted  knave  like  Shakespeare,  that  gentle 
men  admit  to  their  company,  and  that  has  had  the 
court  talking  of  his  poems,  can  endure  to  be  a  dog 
of  an  actor,  and  to  scribble  plays  for  that  stinking 
rabble  out  yonder  to  gape  at !  " 

Whatever  were  Will  Shakespeare's  own  views  on 
that  subject,  he  had  at  that  moment  other  matters 
in  mind.  In  the  bare  tiring-room  beyond  the  cur 
tained  partition  at  the  rear  of  the  stage,  he  moved 
calmly  about  among  the  actors,  some  of  whom  were 


1 6  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

not  yet  wholly  dressed  in  the  armor  or  robes  or  other 
costume  required,  some  of  whom  were  already  dis 
guised  in  false  beard  or  hair,  some  already  painted 
as  to  the  face,  some  walking  to  and  fro,  repeating 
their  lines  in  undertones,  with  preoccupied  and  anx 
ious  air ;  and  so  well  did  Master  Shakespeare  over 
come  the  agitations  of  an  author  who  was  to  receive 
five  pounds  for  his  new  play,  and  of  a  stage-manager 
on  whom  its  success  largely  depended,  that  he  seemed 
the  least  excited  person  in  the  room.  He  had  put 
on  the  armor  for  the  part  of  the  ghost,  but  his  flow 
ing  hair —  auburn,  like  his  small  pointed  beard  —  was 
not  yet  confined  by  the  helmet  he  should  soon  don. 
His  soft  light  brown  eyes  moved  in  swift  but  careful 
survey  of  the  whole  company  ;  and  then,  seeing  that 
the  actors  for  the  opening  scene  were  ready,  and 
that  the  others  were  in  sufficient  preparation  for 
their  proper  entrances,  he  gave  the  signal  for  the 
flag  and  trumpet  aloft. 

At  sight  of  the  flag,  late  comers  who  had  not  yet 
reached  the  playhouse  mended  their  speed,  —  whether 
they  were  noblemen  conveyed  by  boat  from  the  great 
riverside  mansions  of  the  Strand ;  gentlemen  riding 
horseback,  or  in  coaches,  or  borne  in  wherries  from 
city  water-gates ;  or  citizens,  law  scholars,  soldiers, 
sailors,  rascals,  and  plain  people,  arriving  by  ferry 
or  afoot  by  London  Bridge  or  from  the  immediate 
neighborhood.  At  sound  of  the  trumpet,  the  crowd 


THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     I/ 

in  the  theatre  uttered  the  grateful  "Ah  !  "  and  other 
exclamations  natural  to  the  moment.  From  the  tir 
ing-room  the  subordinate  actor  who  played  the  first 
sentinel  had  already  passed  to  his  post  on  the  stage, 
by  way  of  the  door  in  the  partition  and  of  an  inter 
stice  in  the  rear  curtains  ;  other  actors  stood  ready 
to  follow  speedily ;  the  front  curtains  were  drawn 
apart,  and  the  first  performance  of  Mr.  William 
Shakespeare's  earliest  stage  version  of  "  Hamlet  " 
—  a  version  something  between  the  garbled  form 
now  seen  in  the  "  first  quarto "  and  the  slightly 
altered  form  extant  in  the  "second  quarto" — was 
begun. 

In  the  tiring-room,  —  where  the  actors  awaiting 
their  entrance  cues  could  presently  hear  their  fellows 
spouting  on  the  stage  without,  and  the  "groundlings  " 
in  the  yard  making  loud  comments  or  suggestions, 
and  the  lords  laughing  lightly  at  their  own  affected 
chaff,  —  the  pale  yellow  light  of  the  chill  March 
afternoon  fell  from  high-placed  narrow  windows. 
It  touched  the  face  of  one  tall,  slender  young 
player,  whose  mustaches  required  a  close  inspec 
tion  to  detect  that  they  were  false,  —  for  at  that 
time,  when  the  use  of  dye  was  general,  it  was  com 
mon  for  natural  beards  to  look  artificial.  The  hair 
of  this  youth's  head  also  was  brown,  but  it  was  his 
own.  His  blue  eyes  and  rather  sharp  features  had 
a  look  half  conciliating,  half  defiant,  and  he  was 


1  8  A    GENTLEMAN  PLA  YER. 

manifestly  trying  to  conceal,  by  standing  perfectly 
still  instead  of  fidgeting  or  pacing  the  floor,  a  severe 
case  of  that  perturbation  which  to  this  day  afflicts 
the  chief  persons  concerned  in  a  first  performance  of 
a  play. 

He  was  approached  by  a  graceful  young  person  in 
woman's  clothes,  — •  with  stomacher,  puffed  sleeves, 
farthingale,  high-heeled  shoes,  —  who  had  been  glid 
ing  about,  now  with  every  step  and  attitude  of  the 
gentle  damsel  he  seemed  to  be,  now  lapsing  into 
the  gait  and  manner  of  the  pert  boy  he  was,  and 
who  said  to  the  inwardly  excited  but  motionless 
player : 3 

"  Marry,  Hal,  take  it  not  as  'twere  thy  funeral ! 
Faith,  thou'rt  ten  times  shakier  o'  the  knees  than 
Master  Shakespeare  himself,  and  he  writ  the  play. 
See  how  he  claps  his  head-piece  on,  to  go  and 
play  the  ghost,  as  if  he  were  but  putting  on  his 
hat  to  go  to  the  tavern  for  a  cup  of  claret." 

Hal  looked  as  if  he  would  deny  the  imputed  shaki- 
ness  ;  but  seeing  that  the  clever  boy  "  Ophelia  "  was 
not  to  be  fooled,  he  gave  a  quick  sigh,  and  replied  : 

"  'Tis  my  first  time  in  so  prominent  a  part.  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  the  sign  in  front  of  the  theatre,  —  a 
fellow  with  the  world  on  his  back.  May  I  be  racked 
if  I  don't  half  wish  they'd  given  this  '  Laertes '  to 
Gil  Crowe  to  play,  after  all !  " 

"  Tut,   Master  Marryott  !     An    thou  pluck'st   up 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     19 

no  more  courage,  thou  shalt  ever  be  a  mere  journey 
man.  God  knows  thou  art  bold  enough  in  a  tavern 
or  a  brawl !  Look  at  Mr.  Burbage,  —  he  has  forgot 
himself  and  us  and  all  the  world,  and  thinks  he  is 
really  Hamlet  the  Dane." 

Hal  Marryott,  knowing  already  what  he  should 
see,  glanced  at  Burbage,  who  paced,  not  excitedly 
but  as  in  deep  meditation,  near  the  entrance  to  the 
stage.  A  short,  stout,  handsome  man,  with  a 
thoughtful  face,  a  fine  brow,  a  princely  port ;  like 
Shakespeare,  he  was  calm,  but  while  Shakespeare 
had  an  eye  for  everything  but  apparently  the  part 
himself  was  to  play,  Burbage  was  absorbed  entirely 
in  his  own  part  and  unconscious  of  all  else,  as  if  in 
the  tiring-room  he  was  already  Hamlet  from  the 
moment  of  putting  on  that  prince's  clothes.4 

"  What  a  plague  are  you  looking  at,  Gil  Crowe  ?  " 
suddenly  demanded  Hal  Marryott  of  another  actor, 
who  was  gazing  at  him  with  a  malicious  smile 
evidently  caused  by  Hal's  ill-concealed  disquietude. 
"  An  it  be  my  shoes,  I'll  own  you  could  have  made 
as  good  if  you'd  stuck  to  your  proper  trade  !  " 

"  Certes,"  replied  Crowe,  who  wore  the  dress  of 
Rosencrantz,  and  whose  coarse  face  bore  marks  of 
dissipation,  "  I'm  less  like  to  deny  having  been  a 
shoemaker,  which  is  true,  than  some  are  to  boast  of 
having  been  gentlemen,  which  may  be  doubtful." 

Young   Marryott's    eyes   flashed  hot   indignation. 


2O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Before  he  could  control  himself  to  retort,  an  actor  in 
a  rich  robe  and  a  false  white  beard,5  who  had  over 
heard  Master  Crowe's  innuendo,  strode  up  and  said  : 

"  Faith,  Crowe,  you  wrong  the  lad  there.  Who 
hath  ever  heard  him  flaunt  his  birth  before'  us  ? 
Well  you  know  it,  if  he  doth  at  times  assert  his  gentle 
blood,  'tis  when  forced  to  it ;  and  then  'tis  by  act 
and  manner,  not  by  speech.  Go  your  ways,  Crowe ; 
thou'st  been  overfree  with  the  pottle-pot  again,  I'm 
afeard  !  " 

"Nay,"  put  in  the  impudent  Ophelia,  his  elbows 
thrust  out,  his  hands  upon  his  hips,  "  Master  Crowe 
had  picked  out  the  part  of  Laertes  for  himself ;  and 
because  Master  Shakespeare  chose  Hal  to  play  it, 
Hal  is  a  boaster  and  not  truly  gentle  born." 

"You  squeaking  brat,"  said  Crowe,  "but  for 
spoiling  thy  face  for  the  play,  I'd  put  thee  in  thy 
place.  I  might  have  played  Laertes,  but  that  — 

Here  he  paused,  whereupon  the  white-bearded 
Corambis  (such  was  the  name  of  Polonius  in  the 
first  version)  finished  for  him  : 

"  But  that  y'are  not  to  be  trusted  with  important 
parts,  lest  the  play  be  essentially  .spoiled  an  you  be 
too  drunk  to  act." 

"Why,  as  for  that,"  replied  Crowe,  "  beshrew  me 
but  our  gentleman  here  will  stay  as  late  at  the 
tavern,  and  be  roaring  as  loud  for  more  sack  when 
daylight  comes,  as  any  one." 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     21 

For  this  home  thrust  Marryott  had  no  reply. 
Crowe  thereupon  walked  away,  the  Corambis  joined 
another  group,  and  the  Ophelia  sauntered  across  the 
room  to  view  'the  costly  raiment  that  a  tiring  man 
was  helping  Mr.  William  Sly  to  put  on  for  the  part 
of  the  foppish  courtier,  later  christened  Osric.  Left 
to  his  thoughts,  the  Laertes,  nervously  twirling  his 
false  mustaches,  followed  the  ex-shoemaker  with  his 
eyes,  and  meditated  on  the  latter's  insolence.  The 
more  he  reviewed  it,  and  his  own  failure  to  rebuke 
it  properly,  the  more  wrathful  he  inwardly  became. 
His  anger  served  as  a  relief  from  the  agitation  he 
had  formerly  undergone.  So  deeply  buried  was  he  in 
his  new  feelings,  that  he  heeded  not  the  progress 
of  affairs  on  the  stage ;  and  thus  he  was  startled 
when  he  felt  his  arm  caught  by  Shakespeare,  who 
was  pointing  to  the  entrance,  and  saying  : 

"  What  ails  thee,  Harry  ?  They  wait  for  thee  on 
the  stage." 

Roused  as  from  sleep,  and  seeing  that  Burbage 
and  the  others  had  indeed  gone  forth  from  the 
tiring-room,  Hal  ran  to  the  entrance  and  out  upon 
the  stage,  his  mind  in  a  whirl,  taking  his  place 
before  King  Claudius  with  such  abruptness  that 
Burbage,  surprised  from  his  mood  of  melancholy 
self-absorption,  sent  him  a  sharp  glance  of  reproof. 
This  but  increased  his  abashment,  and  he  stared  up 
at  the  placard  that  proclaimed  the  stage  to  be  a 


22  A    GENTLEMAN  PLA  YER. 

room  in  the  palace  at  Elsinore,  in  a  kind  of  panic. 
The  audience  moved  and  murmured,  restlessly,  dur 
ing  the  king's  long  speech,  and  Hal,  imagining  that 
his  own  embarrassment  was  perceptible  to  all,  made 
an  involuntary  step  backward  toward  the  side  of 
the  stage.  He  thus  trod  on  the  toe  of  one  of  the 
noble  spectators,  who  was  making  a  note  in  his 
tables,  and  who  retaliated  with  an  ejaculation  and  a 
kick.  Feeling  that  some  means  must  be  taken  to 
attain  composure,  the  more  as  his  heart  seemed 
to  beat  faster  and  his  stomach  to  grow  weaker,  Hal 
remembered  that  he  had  previously  found  distraction 
in  his  wrath  toward  Gilbert  Crowe.  He  therefore 
brought  back  to  mind  the  brief  passage  in  the  tiring- 
room.  So  deeply  did  he  lose  himself  in  this  recol 
lection,  gazing  the  while  at  the  juniper  burning  on 
the  stage  to  sweeten  the  air,  that  it  was  like  a  blow 
in  the  face  when  he  suddenly  became  aware  of  a 
prolonged  silence,  and  of  the  united  gaze  of  all  the 
actors  upon  himself. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have,  Laertes?"  the  king 
was  repeating  for  the  third  time. 

Hal,  aware  now  that  his  cue  had  been  given  more 
than  once,  opened  his  lips  to  reply,  but  his  first  line 
had  fled  completely  from  his  mind.  In  his  blank 
confusion  he  flashed  a  look  of  dismay  toward  the 
entrance.  His  eyes  caught  those  of  Shakespeare, 
who  had  parted  the  arras  curtains  sufficiently  to  be 


THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."    2$ 

visible  to  the  players.  Rather  in  astonishment  than 
in  reproach,  the  poet,  serving  on  occasion  as  prompter, 
uttered  half  audibly  the  forgotten  words,  and  Hal, 
caught  back  as  from  the  brink  of  a  bottomless  pit, 
spoke  out  with  new-found  vigor  : 

"  Dread  my  lord, 
Your  leave  and  favor  to  return  to  France," 

and  the  ensuing  lines.  But  his  delivery  did  not 
quiet  down  the  audience,  —  which,  indeed,  though  it 
had  hushed  for  a  moment  at  the  play's  opening,  and 
again  at  the  appearance  of  the  ghost,  was  not  com 
pletely  stilled,  until  at  last,  upon  the  king's  turning 
to  Hamlet,  the  "  wondrous  tongue "  of  Burbage 
spoke. 

When  Hal  presently  made  exit  to  the  tiring-room, 
after  the  king  and.  courtiers,  he  craved  the  pardon  of 
Master  Shakespeare,  but  the  latter  merely  said  : 

"Tut,  Hal,  it  hath  happened  to  all  of  us  in  our 
time." 

The  derisive  smile  of  Crowe  did  not  sweeten 
Harry's  musings  while  he  waited  for  his  next  going 
on.  Indeed,  he  continued  to  brood  bitterly  on  the 
exhibition  he  had  made  of  himself,  and  the  stay  he 
had  caused  in  the  play.  His  chagrin  was  none  the 
less  for  that  it  was  his  friend  and  benefactor  Shakes 
peare  that  had  nominated  him  for  the  part  of  Laertes, 
and  whose  play  he  had  brought  to  a  momentary  halt. 


24  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

In  deep  dejection,  when  the  time  came,  he  returned 
to  the  stage  with  the  boy-Ophelia  for  his  scene  with 
her  and  Corambis. 

This  passed  so  smoothly  as  to  give  Hal  new  heart, 
until  it  was  near  its  very  end  ;  and  then,  having  re 
plied  to  Corambis's  excellent  advice  with  the  words, 
"Most  humbly  do  I  take  my  leave,  my  lord,"  Hal 
happened  to  let  his  glance  wander  past  the  old 
man,  and  across  a  surging  mass  of  heads  in  a  part 
of  the  yard,  to  a  certain  face  in  one  of  the  boxes  ; 
and  that  face  had  in  it  something  to  make  his 
gaze  remain  delightedly  upon  it  and  his  lips  part  in 
admiration. 

Yes,  the  face  was  a  lady's.  Hal  had  never  seen 
it  before ;  of  that  he  was  instantly  sure,  for  had  he 
seen  it  he  could  not  have  forgotten  it.  He  would 
not  have  seen  it  now  but  that  its  youthful  possessor 
had  removed  her  mask,  which  had  become  irksome 
to  her  skin.  She  seemed  above  all  concern  as  to 
what  might  be  thought  of  her  for  showing  her  face 
in  a  Bankside  theatre.  A  proud  and  wilful  face  was 
hers,  as  if  with  the  finest  feminine  beauty  she  had 
something  of  the  uncurbed  spirit  and  rashness  of  a 
fiery  young  gentleman.  Her  hair  and  eyes  were 
dark,  her  skin  fair  and  clear  and  smooth,  her  fore 
head  not  too  high,  her  chin  masterful  but  most 
exquisitely  shaped,  her  cheeks  rich  with  natural 
color.  In  fine,  she  was  of  pronounced  beauty,  else 


THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."    2$ 

Master  Marryott  had  not  forgot  himself  to  look  at 
her.  Upon  her  head  was  a  small  gray  velvet  hat, 
peaked,  but  not  very  high,  and  with  narrow  brim 
turned  up  at  the  sides.  Her  chin  was  elevated  a 
little  from  contact  with  a  white  cambric  ruff.  Her 
gown  was  of  murrey  cloth  with  velvet  stripes,  and 
it  tightly  encased  her  figure,  which  was  of  a  well- 
made  and  graceful  litheness.  The  slashed  sleeves, 
although  puffed  out,  did  not  make  too  deep  a  secret 
of  her  shapely,  muscular  arms.  She  might  have 
been  in  her  twenty-second  year. 

With  this  fine  young  creature,  and  farther  back 
in  the  box,  sat  a  richly  dressed  old  gentleman, 
comfortably  asleep,  and  a  masked  lady,  who  shrank 
as  far  as  possible  into  the  shadow  of  the  box  corner. 
Standing  in  the  yard,  but  close  to  the  front  of  the 
box,  was  a  slim,  dark-faced  youth  in  the  green  attire 
then  worn  by  the  menservants  of  ladies. 

Not  all  these  details,  but  only  the  lady,  held  the 
ravished  Laertes's  attention  while  he  recited  : 

"Farewell,  Ophelia;  and  remember  well 
What  I  have  said  to  you." 

So  heedless  and  mechanical  was  his  utterance  of 
these  lines,  in  contrast  with  his  previous  lifelike 
manner,  that  the  nearest  auditors  laughed.  The 
Corambis  and  Ophelia,  seeking  the  cause  of  his 
sudden  lapse,  followed  his  gaze  with  wondering  side- 


26  A    GENTLEMAN  PLA  YER. 

glances,  while  Ophelia  replied,  in  the  boy's  musical 

soprano : 

"  'Tis  in  my  memory  lock'd 

And  you  yourself  shall  keep  the  key  of  it." 

"  Farewell,"  said  Laertes,  this  time  with  due  ex 
pression,  but  rather  to  the  lady  in  the  distant  box 
than  to  Ophelia  and  Corambis.  Reluctantly  he 
backed  toward  the  rear  curtains,  and  was  so  slow 
in  making  his  exit,  that  Corambis,  whose  next  line 
required  to  be  spoken  in  Laertes's  absence,  gave  him 
a  look  of  ireful  impatience  and  a  muttered  "  Shog, 
for  God's  sake,"  which  set  the  young  lords  at  the 
stage-side  tittering. 

At  sight  of  Shakespeare,  who  was  whispering  to 
the  Horatio  and  the  Marcellus,  near  the  entrance, 
Master  Marryott  had  another  twinge  of  self-reproach, 
but  this  swiftly  yielded  to  visions  of  the  charming 
face.  These  drove  away  also  all  heed  of  the  pres 
ence  of  Crowe.  Hal  would  have  liked  to  mount  the 
steps  to  the  balcony  at  the  rear  of  the  stage,  in 
which  the  unemployed  actors  might  sit  when  it  was 
not  in  other  use,  and  whence  he  might  view  the  lady 
at  leisure ;  but  the  balcony  was  soon  to  be  in  service 
as  a  platform  of  the  castle,  in  the  scene  between 
Hamlet  and  the  ghost. 

His  imagination  crossing  all  barriers,  and  making 
him  already  the  accepted  wooer  of  the  new  beauty, 
Hal  noted  not  how  the  play  went  on  without,  even 


THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     2/ 

when  a  breathless  hush  presently  told  of  some  un 
usual  interest  on  the  part  of  the  audience  ;  and  he 
was  then  but  distantly  sensible  of  Shakespeare's 
grave,  musical  voice  in  the  ghost's  long  recitals, 
and  of  the  awestricken,  though  barely  whispered, 
exclamations  of  Burbage. 

In  the  second  act  Hal  had  to  remove  his  mus 
taches,  change  his  cloak,  and  go  on  as  an  attendant 
in  the  presence-chamber  scene.  His  first  glance  was 
for  the  lady.  Alas,  the  face  was  in  eclipse,  the  black 
velvet  mask  had  been  replaced  ! 

Returning  to  the  tiring-room,  he  had  now  to  don 
the  beard  of  an  elderly  lord,  in  which  part  he  was  to 
help  fill  the  stage  in  the  play  scene.  As  he  marched 
on  in  the  king's  train,  for  this  scene,  to  the  blare  of 
trumpet  and  the  music  of  instruments  in  a  box  aloft, 
—  violins,  shawms,  sackbuts,  and  dulcimers,  —  he 
saw  that  the  lady  was  still  masked.  His  presence  on 
the  stage  this  time  gave  him  no  opportunity  to  watch 
her  ;  he  had  to  direct  his  eyes,  now  at  the  king  and 
queen  on  their  chairs  at  one  side  of  the  stage,  and 
now  at  the  platform  of  the  mimic  players. 

When  he  made  his  exit  with  the  royal  party,  he 
saw  on  every  face  a  kind  of  elation.  "  They  are  hit, 
and  no  question,"  said  Master  Taylor.  "Ay,"  quoth 
Master  Condell,  "that  shout  of  the  groundlings, 
when  the  king  fled,  could  have  been  heard  as  far 
as  the  bear-garden."  "  But  the  stillness  of  both 


28  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

lords  and  groundlings  before  that,"  said  Master 
Heminge,  — "  never  was  such  stillness  when  Tom 
Kyd's  Hamlet  was  played."  "We  shall  see  how 
they  take  the  rest  of  it,"  said  Shakespeare,  softly, 
—  though  he  could  not  quite  conceal  a  kind  of 
serene  satisfaction  that  had  stolen  upon  his  face. 

Hal  Marryott  doffed  his  beard,  and  resumed  his 
Laertes  cloak,  resolved  to  have  some  part  in  the 
general  success.  His  next  scene,  that  in  which 
Laertes  calls  the  king  to  account  for  his  father's 
death,  and  beholds  his  sister's  madness,  held  the 
opportunity  of  doing  so,  —  of  justifying  Shakespeare's 
selection  for  the  part,  of  winning  the  young  lady's 
applause,  of  hastening  his  own  advancement  to  that 
fortune  which  would  put  him  in  proper  state  to 
approach  a  wealthy  gentlewoman.  Perhaps  she  was 
one  of  those  who  were  privileged  to  attend  the 
Christmas  court  performances.  Could  he  first  win 
her  admiration  in  some  fine  part  at  Whitehall,  the 
next  time  the  chamberlain's  men  should  play  there ; 
then  —  by  getting  as  much  wealth  as  Mr.  Alleyn  and 
other  players  had  acquired  —  leave  the  stage,  and 
strut  in  the  jewels  and  velvet  suitable  to  his  birth, 
to  what  woman  might  he  not  aspire  ?  He  had  all 
planned  in  a  minute,  with  the  happy  facility  of  youth 
in  such  matters. 

So  he  stood  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  tiring-room, 
getting  into  the  feeling  of  his  next  scene,  repeating 


THE    FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."    29 

the  lines  to  himself,  assuming  a  Burbage-like  self- 
absorption  to  repel  those  of  his  fellow  players  who, 
otherwise,  would  now  and  then  have  engaged  him  in 
talk.  Much  conversation  was  going  on  in  under 
tone  among  the  groups  standing  about,  or  sitting 
on  the  tables,  chairs,  stools,  and  chests  that  awaited 
their  time  of  service  on  the  stage,  —  for,  although 
scenery  was  merely  suggested  by  word  or  symbol, 
furniture  and  properties,  like  costume  and  makeup, 
were  then  used  in  the  theatres.  In  due  time,  Hal 
placed  himself  at  the  entrance,  working  up  his  mood 
to  a  fine  heat  for  the  occasion  ;  heard  the  cue,  "  The 
doors  are  broke;"  and  rushed  on,  crying  "  Where 
is  this  king?"  with  a  fury  that  made  the  ground 
lings  gape,  and  even  startled  the  lolling  lords  into 
attention. 

Having  ordered  back  his  Danes,  and  turned  again 
to  the  king,  he  cast  one  swift  glance  toward  the 
lady's  box,  to  see  how  she  had  taken  his  fiery 
entrance;  and  perceived  —  no  one.  The  box  was 
empty. 

He  felt  as  if  something  had  given  way  beneath 
him.  In  a  twinkling  his  manner  toward  the  king 
fell  into  the  most  perfunctory  monotone.  So  he 
played  the  scene  oat,  looking  again  and  again  to 
ascertain  if  his  eyes  had  not  deceived  him ;  but 
neither  was  she  there,  nor  the  other  lady,  nor  the 
gentleman,  nor  the  page  in  green  who  had  stood 


30  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

before  the  box.  The  theatre  was  dark  and  dull 
without  her ;  though  as  much  light  came  in  as 
ever,  through  the  gallery  windows  and  the  open 
top  of  the  playhouse. 

With  a  most  blank  and  insipid  feeling  did  Hal 
finish  this  scene,  and  the  longer  and  less  interesting 
one  that  came  almost  immediately  after.  He  carried 
this  feeling  back  to  the  dressing-room,  and  dropped 
upon  a  stool  in  utter  listlessness. 

"  Hath  life  then  lost  all  taste  and  motive  ? "  It 
was  the  voice  of  Shakespeare,  who  had  read  Hal's 
mood.  The  question  came  with  an  expression  half 
amused,  half  sympathetic.  At  this,  in  place  of  which 
he  had  deserved  a  chiding,  Hal  was  freshly  stricken, 
and  more  deeply  than  before,  with  a  sense  of  the 
injury  he  did  his  benefactor  by  his  lifeless  acting. 
So  his  answer  was  strangely  wide  from  the  question. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said.  "I  swear  I'll  make 
amends  in  the  rest  of  the  play." 

And  he  rose,  resolved  to  do  so.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
the  lady  and  her  companions  had  but  gone  to  another 
box,  or  would  return  to  the  theatre  before  the  play 
was  over.  And,  moreover,  what  a  fool  should  he  be, 
to  throw  away  this  chance  of  advancement  that 
might  equip  him  for  some  possible  future  meeting 
with  her  !  And  what  malicious  triumph  was  glowing 
darkly  on  the  countenance  of  Gilbert  Crowe !  There 
remained  to  Hal  two  opportunities  to  retrieve  himself. 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."    31 

The  first  was  the  encounter  with  Hamlet  in  the 
graveyard.  Choosing  to  believe  that  his  enchantress 
was  indeed  looking  on  from  some  to-him-unknown 
part  of  the  house,  he  put  into  this  short  scene  so 
excellent  a  frenzy  that,  on  coming  off  the  stage,  he 
was  greeted  with  a  quiet  "  Sir,  that  was  wel]  played," 
from  Burbage  himself,  who  had  made  exit  a  moment 
earlier.  "Bravely  ranted,"  said  the  Corambis  ;  and 
the  Ophelia,  now  out  of  his  woman's  clothes  and  half 
into  a  plain  doublet,  observed,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head 
toward  Master  Crowe  : 

"  Thou'st  turned  Gil's  face  sour  of  a  sudden." 

But  Master  Marryott,  disdaining  to  take  gratifica 
tion  in  Gil's  discomfiture,  found  it  instead  in  a  single 
approbative  look  from  Shakespeare  ;  and  then,  choos 
ing  his  foil,  began  making  passes  at  the  empty  air, 
in  practice  for  the  fencing  match. 

It  was  partly  for  his  skill  with  the  foils  that  Hal 
had  got  Shakespeare's  vote  for  the  character  of 
Laertes.  Being  a  gentleman  by  birth,  though  now 
alone  in  the  world  and  of  fallen  fortunes,  he  had 
early  taken  kindly  to  that  gentleman  among  weapons, 
the  rapier,  that  had  come  to  drive  those  common 
swaggerers,  the  sword  and  buckler,  out  of  general 
service.  At  home  in  Oxfordshire,  in  the  lifetime  of 
his  parents,  and  before  the  memorable  lawsuit  with 
the  Berkshire  branch  of  the  family  had  taken  the 
ancestral  roof  from  over  his  head,  and  driven  him  to 


32  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

London  to  seek  what  he  might  find,  he  had  practised 
daily  with  the  blade,  under  whatever  tuition  came 
his  way.  In  London  he  had  picked  up  what  was  to 
be  learned  from  exiled  Frenchmen,  soldiers  who  had 
fought  in  Flanders  and  Spain,  and  other  students  of 
the  steel,  who  abounded  in  the  taverns.  With  his 
favorite  weapon  he  was  as  skilful  as  if  he  had  taken 
at  least  a  provost's  degree  in  the  art  of  fence.  The 
bout  in  "  Hamlet "  was,  of  course,  prearranged  in 
every  thrust  and  parry,  but,  even  so,  there  was  need 
of  a  trained  fencer's  grace  and  precision  in  it.  Good 
fencing  was  in  itself  a  show  worth  seeing,  in  a  time 
when  every  man  knew  how  to  wield  one  weapon  or 
another.6 

The  audience  was  wrought  up  to  that  pitch  of 
interest  which  every  fifth  act  ought  to  witness,  when 
the  final  scene  came  on.  Each  man  —  especially 
among  the  apprentices,  the  soldiers,  and  the  lords  — 
constituted  himself  an  umpire  of  the  contest,  and 
favored  the  fighters  with  comments  and  suggestions. 
The  sympathy,  of  course,  was  with  Hamlet,  but  no 
one  could  be  blind  to  the  facile  play  of  the  Laertes, 
who  indeed  had  the  skill  to  cover  up  his  antagonist's 
deficiency  with  the  weapon,  and  to  make  him  appear 
really  the  victor.  The  courteous  manner  in  which 
Hal  confessed  himself  hit  put  the  spectators  into 
suitable  mind  for  the  better  perceiving  of  his  merit. 
There  could  be  little  doubt  as  to  the  outcome,  had 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     33 

the  fight  been  real,  for  Burbage  was  purring  in  a 
way  that  made  the  queen's  observation,  "  He's  fat 
and  scant  of  breath,"  most  apt.  During  the  sword- 
work,  the  lords  and  soldiers  aired  Italian  fencing 
terms  then  current,  in  praising  the  good  defence 
that  "the  mad  girl's  brother"  made;  and  when  he 
seemed  to  wound  Hamlet,  there  burst  out  a  burly 
voice  from  the  midst  of  the  yard,  with  : 

"  I  knew  that  thrust  was  coming,  Master  Marry- 
ott!  Tis  I  —  Kit  Bottle  !" 

When  Laertes  confessed  his  treachery  and  begged 
Hamlet's  forgiveness,  so  well  had  Hal  fenced  and  so 
well  acted,  he  won  such  esteem  of  the  audience  as  to 
die  in  the  best  odor.  And  when,  at  last,  the  rushes 
covering  the  stage  boards  were  in  turn  covered  with 
dead  bodies,  when  the  curtains  closed,  and  the  audi 
ence  could  be  heard  bustling  noisily  out  of  the 
theatre,  Hal  partook  of  the  general  jubilant  relief, 
and  hoped  the  beautiful  young  lady  had  indeed  seen 
the  last  act  from  somewhere  in  the  house.  The  actors 
arose  from  the  dead,  looked  as  if  they  had  jointly  and 
severally  thrown  off  a  great  burden,  and  hastened 
to  substitute  their  plainer  clothes  for  their  rich 
costumes. 

"  Come  with  us  to  the  Falcon  for  a  cup  or  two, 
and  then  to  the  Mermaid  to  supper,"  said  Shakes 
peare  to  Hal,  as  the  latter  was  emerging  from  the 
theatre  a  few  minutes  later,  dressed  now  in  somewhat 


34  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

worn  brown  silk  and  velvet.  With  the  poet  were 
Masters  Heminge,  Sly,  Condell,  and  Laurence 
Fletcher,  manager  for  the  company  of  players.  The 
six  walked  off  together,  across  the  trodden  field  and 
along  the  street  or  roadway,  drawing  their  short 
cloaks  tight  around  them  for  the  wind.  The  Fal 
con  tavern  was  at  the  western  end  of  the  Bankside, 
separated  from  the  river  by  a  little  garden  with  an 
arbor  of  vines.  As  the  players  were  about  to  enter, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  group  of  gentlemen  could  be 
seen  coming  from  within,  to  take  boat  for  the  city  or 
Westminster. 

"  Stand  close,"  said  Fletcher,  quickly,  to  the  actors. 
"  We  may  hear  an  opinion  of  the  play.  My  lord 
Edgebury  is  the  best  judge  of  these  matters  in 
England." 

The  players  moved  aside,  and  pretended  to  be 
reading  one  of  their  own  bills,  as  the  nobles  passed. 

"It  holdeth  attention,"  my  lord  was  saying  to  his 
companions,  "  but  — fustian,  fustian  !  Noise  for  the 
rabble  in  the  yard.  'Twill  last  a  week,  perchance, 
for  its  allegory  upon  timely  matters.  But  I  give  it 
no  longer.  'Twill  not  live." 

"  Gramercy  !  "  quoth  Sly  to  the  players,  with  a 
comical  smile.  "  He  is  more  liberal  than  Gil  Crowe, 
who  gives  it  but  three  afternoons.  Come  into  the 
tavern,  lads,  and  a  plague  on  all  such  prophets  ! " 

My  lord  Edgebury  and  Gil  Crowe,  ye  are  not  dead 


THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE    OF  "HAMLET."     35 

yet.  At  all  first  nights  do  ye  abound ;  in  many 
leather-covered  study-chairs  do  ye  sit,  busy  with 
wet  blankets  and  cold  water.  On  this  occasion, 
though  no  one  knew  it  at  the  time,  you  were  a  trifle 
out  of  your  reckoning, — three  hundred  years,  at 
least,  as  far  as  we  may  be  sure  now ;  not  much,  as 
planets  and  historians  count,  but  quite  a  while 
as  time  goes  with  children. 


CHAPTER   II. 

AT    THE    TAVERNS. 

"We  have  heard  the  chimes  at  midnight,  Master  Shallow." — Henry  IV., 
Part  II. 

THAT  this  narrative  —  which  is  to  be  an  account 
of  things  done,  not  an  antiquarian  "picture"  of  a 
past  age  —  need  not  at  every  step  be  learnedly  ar 
rested  by  some  description  of  a  costume,  street, 
house,  aspect  of  society,  feature  of  the  time,  or 
other  such  matter,  let  the  reader  be  reminded  at 
the  outset  that  the  year  1601  was  of  Elizabeth's 
reign  the  forty-second  ;  that  England  was  still  in  the 
first  thrill  of  the  greatest  rejuvenescence  the  world 
ever  knew ;  that  new  comforts,  and  new  luxuries, 
and  new  thoughts,  and  new  possibilities,  and  new 
means  of  pleasure,  had  given  Englishmen  a  mad  and 
boisterous  zest  for  life  ;  that  gentlemen  strutted  in 
curiously  shaped  beards,  and  brilliant  doublets,  and 
silken  trunk-hose,  and  ruffs,  and  laced  velvet  cloaks, 
and  feathered  hats ;  that  ladies  wore  stiff  bodices 
and  vast  sleeves,  and  robes  open  in  front  to  show 
their  petticoats,  and  farthingales  to  make  those  petti 
coats  stand  out ;  that  many  of  these  ladies  painted 

36 


AT    THE    TAVERNS.  37 

their  faces  and  used  false  hair ;  that  the  attire  of 
both  sexes  shone  with  jewels  and  gold  and  silver ; 
that  London  folk  were,  in  brief,  the  most  richly 
dressed  in  the  world  ;  that  most  ordinary  London 
houses  were  of  wood  and  plaster,  and  gabled,  and 
built  so  that  the  projecting  upper  stories  darkened 
the  narrow  streets  below ;  that  the  many-colored 
moving  spectacle  in  those  streets  was  diversified  by 
curious  and  admiring  foreigners  from  everywhere ; 
that  although  coaches  were  yet  of  recent  introduc 
tion,  the  stone  paving  sounded  with  them  as  well 
as  with  the  carts  and  drays  of  traffic ;  that  gray 
churches,  and  desolated  convents,  and  episcopal  pal 
aces,  and  gentlemen's  inns,  and  turreted  mansions  of 
nobility,  abounded  in  city  and  suburbs ;  that  the 
Catholics  were  still  occasional  sufferers  from  such 
persecution  as  they  in  their  time  had  dealt  to  the 
Protestants  ;  that  there  were  still  some  very  proud 
and  masterful  great  lords,  although  they  now  came 
to  court,  and  had  fine  mansions  in  the  Strand  or 
other  suburbs,  and  no  longer  fostered  civil  or  private 
war  in  their  great  stone  castles  in  the  country ;  that 
bully  'prentices,  in  woollen  caps  and  leather  or  can 
vas  doublets,  were  as  quick  to  resent  real  or  fancied 
offence,  with  their  knives,  as  gentlemen  were  with 
silver-gilt-hilted  rapiers  ;  that  the  taverns  resounded 
with  the  fanciful  oaths  of  heavily  bearded  soldiers 
who  had  fought  in  Flanders  and  Spain;  that -there 


38  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

were  eager  ears  for  every  amazing  lie  of  seafaring 
adventurers  who  had  served  under  Drake  or  Raleigh 
against  the  Spanish ;  that  tobacco  was  still  a  novelty, 
much  relished  and  much  affected  ;  that  ghosts  and 
witches  were  believed  in  by  all  classes  but  perhaps 
a  few  "  atheists  "  like  Kit  Marlowe  and  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh;  that  untamed  England  was  still  "merry" 
with  its  jousts,  its  public  spectacles,  its  rustic  festi 
vals,  its  holiday  feasts,  and  its  brawls,  although 
Puritanism  had  already  begun  to  show  its  spoil-sport 
face ;  and,  to  come  to  this  particular  first  Monday  in 
March,  that  the  common  London  talk,  when  it  was 
not  of  the  private  affairs  of  the  talkers,  had  gone,  for 
its  theme,  from  the  recent  trial  and  death  of  the 
brave  but  restless  Earl  of  Essex,  to  the  proceedings 
now  pending  against  certain  of  his  lesser  satellites  in 
the  Drury  House  conspiracy. 

Before  entering  the  Falcon,  Hal  Marryott  sent  a 
last  sweeping  look  in  all  directions,  half  daring  to 
hope  that  the  lady  in  gray  and  murrey  had  not  yet 
left  the  vicinity  of  the  theatre.  But  the  audience 
had  gone  its  countless  ways  ;  at  the  Falcon  river- 
stairs  the  watermen's  cries  and  the  noise  of  much 
embarking  had  subsided ;  and  the  only  women 
in  sight  were  of  the  Bankside  itself,  and  of  a  far 
different  class  from  that  of  her  whom  he  sought. 
He  sighed  and  followed  his  companions  into  the 
tavern. 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  39 

They  were  passing  through  the  common  hall,  on 
their  way  to  a  room  where  they  could  be  served 
privately,  when  they  were  greeted  by  a  tall,  burly, 
black-bearded,  bold-featured,  weather-browned,  mid 
dle-aged  fellow  in  a  greasy  leather  jerkin,  an  old 
worn-out  red  velvet  doublet,  and  patched  brown  silk 
trunk-hose,  and  with  a  sorry-feathered  remnant  of  a 
big-brimmed  felt  hat,  a  long  sword  and  a  dagger, 
these  weapons  hanging  at  his  girdle.  His  shoes 
barely  deserved  the  name,  and  his  brown  cloth  cloak 
was  a  rag.  His  face  had  been  glum  and  uneasy,  but 
at  sight  of  the  players  he  instantly  threw  on  the  air 
of  a  dashing,  bold  rascal  with  whom  all  went  merrily. 

" '  The  actors  are  come  hither,  my  lord,' "  he 
cried,  with  a  flourish,  quoting  from  the  play  of  the 
afternoon.  "  A  good  piece  of  work,  Master  Shakes 
peare.  Excellent  !  More  than  excellent !  " 

"  Despite  thyself,  for  doing  thy  best  to  spoil  it,  — 
bawling  out  in  the  fencing  match,  Kit  Bottle,"  put 
in  Will  Sly. 

"  Captain  Bottle,  an  it  please  you,  Master  Sly," 
said  the  other,  instantly  taking  on  dignity ;  "  at  least 
when  I  carried  Sir  Philip  Sidney  off  the  field  at 
Zutphen,  and  led  my  company  after  my  lord  Essex 
into  Cadiz." 

"  And  how  goes  the  world  with  thee,  Captain 
Kit  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Shakespeare,  with  something  of 
a  kindly  sadness  in  his  tone. 


4O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Bravely,  bravely  as  ever,  Master  Will,"  replied 
Kit.  "  Still  marching  to  this  music ! "  And  he 
shook  a  pouch  at  his  belt,  causing  a  clinking  sound 
to  come  forth. 

As  the  players  passed  on  to  their  room,  Kit  plucked 
the  sleeve  of  Hal  Marryott,  who  was  the  last.  When 
the  two  were  alone  in  a  corner,  the  soldier,  having 
dropped  his  buoyant  manner,  whispered  : 

"  Hast  a  loose  shilling  or  two  about  thy  clothes, 
lad  ?  Just  till  to-morrow,  I  swear  on  the  cross  of 
my  sword.  I  have  moneys  coming ;  that  is,  with  a 
few  testers  to  start  dicing  withal,  I  shall  have  the 
coin  flowing  me-ward.  Tut,  boy,  I  can't  lie  to  thee ; 
I  haven't  tasted  meat  or  malt  since  yesterday." 

"  But  what  a  devil  —  why,  the  pieces  thou  wert 
jingling?"  said  Hal,  astonished. 

"  Pox,  Hal,  think' st  thou  I  would  bare  my  poverty 
to  a  gang  of  players  —  nay,  no  offence  to  thee,  lad  !  " 
The  soldier  took  from  the  pouch  two  or  three  links 
of  a  worthless  iron  chain.  "  When  thou  hast  no 
coin,  lad,  let  thy  purse  jingle  loudest.  'Twill  serve 
many  a  purpose." 

"But  if  you  could  not  buy  a  dinner,"  said  Hal, 
smiling,  "how  did  you  buy  your  way  into  the  play 
house  ? " 

"Why,  body  of  me,"  replied  Bottle,  struggling  for 
a  moment  with  a  slight  embarrassment,  "  the  mind, 
look  you,  the  mind  calls  for  food,  no  less  than  the 


AT   THE    TAVERNS.  41 

belly.  Could  I  satisfy  both  with  a  sixpence  ?  No. 
What  should  it  be,  then  ?  Beef  and  beer  for  the 
belly  ?  Or  a  sight  of  the  new  play,  to  feed  the  mind 
withal  ?  Thou  know'st  Kit  Bottle,  lad.  Though  he 
hath  followed  the  wars,  and  cut  his  scores  of  Spanish 
throats,  and  hath  no  disdain  of  beef  and  beer,  neither, 
yet  as  the  mind  is  the  better  part  — 

Moved  at  thought  of  the  hungry  old  soldier's 
last  sixpence  having  gone  for  the  play,  to  the  slight 
ing  of  his  stomach,  Hal  instantly  pulled  out  what 
remained  of  his  salary  for  the  previous  week,  about 
five  shillings  in  amount,  and  handed  over  two  shil 
lings  sixpence,  saying : 

"  I  can  but  halve  with  thee,  Kit.  The  other  half 
is  owed." 

"Nay,  lad,"  said  Kit,  after  a  swift  glance  around 
to  see  if  the  transaction  was  observed  by  the  host  or 
the  drawers,  "  I'll  never  rob  thee,  persuade  me  as 
thou  wilt.  Two  shillings  I'll  take,  not  a  farthing 
more.  Thou'rt  a  heart  of  gold,  lad.  To-morrow  I'll 
pay  thee,  an  I  have  to  pawn  my  sword !  To-morrow, 
as  I'm  a  soldier  !  Trust  old  Kit !  " 

And  the  captain,  self-styled,  in  great  haste  now 
that  he  had  got  the  coin,  strode  rapidly  from  the 
place.  Hal  Marryott  proceeded  to  the  room  where 
his  fellow  actors  were.  His  cup  of  canary  was 
already  waiting  for  him  on  the  table  around  which 
the  players  sat. 


42  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"What,  Hal,"  cried  Sly,  "is  it  some  state  affair 
that  Bottle  hath  let  thee  into  ? " 

"  I  like  the  old  swaggerer,"  said  Hal,  evading  the 
question.  "  He  hath  taught  me  the  best  of  what 
swordsmanship  I  know.  He  is  no  counterfeit  sol 
dier,  'tis  certain ;  and  he  hath  a  pride  not  found  in 
common  rogues." 

"  I  think  he  is  in  hard  ways,"  put  in  Laurence 
Fletcher,  the  manager,  "  for  all  his  jingle  of  coin.  I 
saw  him  to-day  lurking  about  the  door  of  the  theatre, 
now  and  again  casting  a  wishful  glance  within,  and 
then  scanning  the  people  as  they  came  up,  as  if  to 
find  some  friend  who  would  pay  for  him.  So  at  last 
I  bade  him  come  in  free  for  the  nonce.  You  should 
have  seen  how  he  took  it." 

"  I  warrant  his  face  turned  from  winter  to  sum 
mer,  in  a  breath,"  said  Mr.  Shakespeare.  "  Would 
the  transformation  were  as  easily  wrought  in  any 
man !  " 

A  winter  indeed  seemed  to  have  settled  upon  his 
own  heart,  for  this  was  the  time,  not  only  when  his 
friends  of  the  Essex  faction  were  suffering,  but  also 
when  the  affair  of  the  "dark  lady,"  in  which  both 
Southampton  and  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  were  involved 
with  himself,  had  reached  its  crisis. 

Hal  smiled  inwardly  to  think  how  Bottle  had 
seized  the  occasion  to  touch  a  player's  feelings  by 
appearing  to  have  spent  his  last  sixpence  for  the 


AT   THE    TAVERN'S.  43 

play  ;  and  forgave  the  lie,  in  admiration  of  the  pride 
with  which  the  ragged  warrior  had  concealed  his 
poverty  from  the  others. 

As  Hal  replaced  his  remaining  three  shillings  in 
his  pocket,  his  fingers  met  something  hairy  therein, 
which  he  had  felt  also  in  taking  the  coin  out.  He 
drew  it  forth  to  see  what  it  was,  and  recognized  the 
beard  he  had  worn  as  the  elderly  lord.  He  then 
remembered  to  have  picked  it  up  from  the  stage, 
where  it  had  accidentally  fallen,  and  to  have  thrust 
it  into  his  pocket  in  his  haste  to  leave  the  theatre 
and  see  if  the  girl  in  murrey  was  still  about.  He 
now  put  it  back  into  his  pocket.  After  the  wine 
had  gone  round  three  times,  the  players  left  the 
Falcon,  to  walk  from  the  region  of  playhouses  and 
bear-gardens  to  the  city,  preferring  to  use  their  legs 
rather  than  go  by  water  from  the  Falcon  stairs. 

They  went  eastward  past  taverns,  dwelling-houses, 
the  town  palace  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and 
the  fine  Church  of  St.  Mary  Overie,  to  the  street 
then  called  Long  Southwark ;  turned  leftward  to 
London  Bridge,  and  crossed  between  the  tall  houses 
of  rich  merchants,  mercers,  and  haberdashers,  that  of 
old  were  built  thereon.  The  river's  roar,  through 
the  arches  beneath,  required  the  players  to  shout 
when  they  talked,  in  crossing.  Continuing  north 
ward  and  up-hill,  past  the  taverns  and  fish-market  of 
New  Fish  Street,  their  intention  being  to  go  at  once 


44  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

to  the  Mermaid,  they  heeded  Master  Condell's  sug 
gestion  that  they  tarry  on  the  way  for  another  drink 
or  two  ;  and  so  turned  into  Eastcheap,  the  street  of 
butchers'  shops,  and  thence  into  the  Boar's  Head 
Tavern,  on  the  south  side  of  the  way. 

On  entering  a  public  parlor,  the  first  person  they 
saw  was  Captain  Bottle,  sitting  at  a  table.  On  the 
stool  opposite  him  was  a  young  man  in  a  gay  satin 
doublet  and  red  velvet  cloak,  and  with  an  affected 
air  of  self-importance  and  worldly  experience.  This 
person  and  the  captain  were  engaged  in  throwing 
dice,  in  the  intervals  of  eating. 

"What,  old  rook  —  captain,  I  mean,"  called  out 
Mr.  Sly ;  "  must  ever  be  shaking  thine  elbow,  e'en 
'twixt  the  dishes  at  thy  supper  ? " 

"An  innocent  game,  sir,"  said  Kit,  promptly,  con 
cealing  his  annoyance  from  his  companion.  "  No 
money  risked,  worth  speaking  of.  God's  body,  doth 
a  sixpence  or  two  signify?"  And  he  continued 
throwing  the  dice,  manifestly  wishing  the  actors 
would  go  about  their  business. 

"  'Tis  true,  when  Captain  Bottle  plays,  it  cannot 
be  called  gaming,"  said  Master  Condell. 

"  He  means,"  explained  Bottle  to  his  companion, 
in  a  confidential  tone,  "  that  I  am  clumsy  with  the 
dice.  A  mere  child,  beshrew  me  else !  A  babe  in 
swaddling  clothes !  'Tis  by  the  most  marvellous 
chance  I've  been  winning  from  you,  these  few 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  45 

minutes.  'Twill  come  your  way  soon,  and  you'll 
turn  my  pockets  inside  out.  Pray  wait  for  me  a 
moment,  while  I  speak  to  these  gentlemen.  We 
have  business  afoot  together." 

Kit  thereupon  rose,  strode  over  to  the  players, 
drew  them  around  him,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  What,  boys,  will  ye  spoil  old  Kit's  labor  ?  Will 
ye  scare  that  birdling  away?  Will  ye  keep  money 
from  the  needy  ?  This  gull  is  clad  in  coin,  he  is 
lined  with  it,  he  spits  it,  he  sweats  it !  He  is  some 
country  beau,  the  dandy  of  some  market  town,  the 
son  of  some  rustical  justice,  the  cock  of  some  vil 
lage.  He  comes  up  to  London  once  a  year,  sees 
a  little  of  the  outside  of  our  life  here,  thinks  he  plays 
the  mad  rascal  in  a  tavern  or  two,  and  goes  home  to 
swagger  it  more  than  ever  in  his  village,  with  stories 
of  the  wickedness  he  hath  done  in  London.  An 
I  get  not  his  money,  others  will,  and  worse  men,  — 
and,  perchance,  leave  him  in  a  worse  condition." 

"  We  shall  leave  him  to  thy  mercy,  and  welcome, 
Kit,"  said  Mr.  Shakespeare.  "  He  shall  never  know 
thy  tricks  from  us.  Come  our  ways,  lads.  These 
village  coxcombs  ought  to  pay  something  for  their 
egregious  vanity  and  ignorance.  This  fellow  will 
have  the  less  means  of  strutting  it  in  the  eyes  of  the 
louts,  when  Kit  hath  had  his  way."  The  poet 
was  doubtless  thinking  of  the  original  of  his  Justice 
Shallow.7 


46  A    GENTLEMAN  FLA  YER. 

So  the  players  went  on  to  another  room,  Hal 
remaining  to  say  in  Kit's  ear  : 

"  I  knew  fellows  like  this  ere  I  came  from  the 
country,  and  how  they  prated  of  London,  and  of 
their  wildness  here.  Gull  such,  if  thou  must  be  a 
cheater." 

"  Cheater,"  echoed  Kit.  "  Nay,  speak  not  the 
word  as  if  it  smelt  so  bad.  Should  a  man  resign 
his  faculties  and  fall  back  on  chance  ?  Do  we  leave 
things  to  chance  in  war  ?  Do  we  not  use  our  skill 
there,  and  every  advantage  God  hath  given  us  ?  Is 
not  a  game  a  kind  of  mimic  war,  and  shall  not  a  man 
use  skill  and  stratagem  in  games  ?  Go  to,  lad.  Am 
I  a  common  coney-catcher  ?  Do  I  cheat  with  a 
gang  ?  Do  I  consort  with  gull-gropers  ?  An  this 
rustic  hath  any  trick  worth  two  of  mine,  is  he  not 
welcome  to  play  it  ?  "  8 

Whereupon  Kit,  making  no  allusion  to  the  bor 
rowed  two  shillings,  although  he  had  already  won 
several  times  two  shillings  from  the  country  fopling, 
returned  to  the  latter  and  the  dice,  while  Hal  joined 
his  own  party. 

The  sight  of  savory  pastry  and  the  smell  of  fish 
a-cooking  had  made  some  of  the  players  willing  to 
stay  and  sup  at  the  Boar's  Head  ;  but  Shakespeare 
reminded  them  that  Mr.  Burbage  was  to  meet  them 
at  the  Mermaid  later.  So  they  rose  presently  to 
set  forth,  all  of  them,  and  especially  Hal  Marryott, 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  47 

the  warmer  in  head  and  heart  for  the  wine  they  had 
taken.  Hal  had  become  animated  and  talkative.  A 
fuller  and  keener  sense  of  things  possessed  him,  — 
of  the  day's  success,  of  his  own  share  therein,  of 
the  merits  of  his  companions  and  himself,  and  of  the 
charms  of  the  lady  in  murrey  and  gray.  So  rich 
and  vivid  became  his  impression  of  the  unknown 
beauty,  that  there  began  to  be  a  seeming  as  if  she 
were  present  in  spirit.  It  was  as  if  her  immaterial 
presence  pervaded  the  atmosphere,  as  if  she  over 
heard  the  talk  that  now  rattled  from  him,  as  if  her 
fine  eyes  were  looking  from  Gothic  church  windows 
and  the  overhanging  gables  of  merchants'  houses, 
while  he  walked  on  with  the  players  in  the  gathering 
dusk  of  evening.  The  party  went  westward,  out  of 
Eastcheap,  past  London  stone  in  Candlewick  Street, 
through  Budge  Row  and  Watling  Street,  and  north 
ward  into  Bread  Street.  The  last  was  lined  with 
inns  and  taverns,  and  into  one  of  the  latter,  on  the 
west  side  of  the  street,  near  "golden  Cheapside," 
the  actors  finally  strode.  Its  broad,  plastered,  pic 
tured  front  was  framed  and  intersected  by  heavy 
timbers  curiously  carved,  and  the  great  sign  that 
hung  before  it  was  the  figure  of  a  mermaid  in 
the  waves.  The  tavern  stood  a  little  space  back 
from  the  street,  toward  which  its  ground-floor  case 
ments  projected  far  out  ;  and,  in  addition  to  its 
porched  front  entrance,  it  had  passageways  at  side 


48  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

and  rear,  respectively  from  Cheapside  and  Friday 
Street.^ 

The  long  room  to  which  the  players  ascended  had 
a  blaze  already  in  the  fireplace  (chimneys  having 
become  common  during  the  later  Tudor  reigns),  a 
great  square  oak  table,  a  few  armchairs,  some 
benches,  and  several  stools.  The  tapestry  on  the 
walls  was  new,  for  the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada, 
which  it  portrayed,  had  occurred  but  a  dozen  years 
before.  Ere  the  actors  were  seated,  lighted  candles 
had  been  brought,  and  Master  Heminge  had  stepped 
into  the  kitchen  to  order  a  supper  little  in  accord 
with  the  season  (it  was  now  Lent)  or  with  the 
statutes,  but  obtainable  by  the  privileged,  —  ribs  of 
beef,  capon,  sauces,  gravies,  custard,  and  other  trifles, 
with  a  bit  of  fish  for  the  scrupulous.  For  players 
are  hungriest  after  a  performance,  and  there  have 
ever  been  stomachs  least  fishily  inclined  on  fish-days, 
as  there  are  always  throats  most  thirsty  for  drink 
where  none  is  allowed ;  and  the  hostess  of  the  Mer 
maid  was  evidently  of  a  mind  with  Dame  Quickly, 
who  argued,  "  What's  a  joint  of  mutton  or  two  in 
a  whole  Lent  ?  "  I0  After  their  walk  in  the  raw  air, 
and  regardless  of  the  customary  order  at  meals,  the 
players  made  a  unanimous  call  for  mulled  sack. 
The  drawer,  who  had  come  at  their  bidding  without 
once  crying  "Anon,"  used  good  haste  to  serve  it. 

"Times   have    changed,"    said    Mr.    Shakespeare, 


AT   THE    TAVERNS.  49 

having  hung  up  cloak,  hat,  and  short  rapier,  and 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  with  a  relish  of  its  comfort 
after  a  day  of  exertion  and  tension.  "  'Tis  not  so 
long  since  there  were  ever  a  dozen  merry  fellows  to 
sup  with  us  when  we  came  from  the  play." 

"  'Tis  strange  we  see  nothing  of  Raleigh,"  said 
Sly,  standing  by  the  carved  chimneypiece,  and 
stretching  his  hands  out  over  the  fire. 

"  Nay,  'twould  be  stranger  an  he  came  to  meet  us 
now,"  said  Laurence  Fletcher,  "after  his  show  of 
joy  at  the  earl's  beheading." 

The  allusion  was  to  Raleigh's  having  witnessed 
from  a  window  in  the  Tower  the  death  of  his  great 
rival,  Essex. 

"  Nay,"  said  Shakespeare,  "  though  he  was  a  foe 
to  Essex,  who  was  of  our  patrons,  Sir  Walter  is  no 
enemy  to  us.  I  dare  swear  he  hath  stood  our  advo 
cate  at  court  in  our  present  disfavor.  But  while 
our  friends  of  one  side  are  now  in  prison  or  seclu 
sion,  those  of  the  other  side  stand  aloof  from  us. 
And  for  our  player-fellowship,  as  rivalry  among  the 
great  hath  made  bitter  haters,  so  hath  competition 
among  actors  and  scribblers  spoilt  good  comrade 
ship." 

"  Thou'rt  thinking  how  brawny  Ben  used  to  sit 
with  us  at  this  table,"  said  Sly. 

"  And  wishing  he  sat  here  again,"  said  Shakespeare. 

"Tut,"  said  Condell,  "he  is  happier  at  the  Devil 


5O  A    GENTLEMAN   PLAYER. 

tavern,  where  his  heavy  wisdom  hath  no  fear  of 
being  put  out  of  countenance  by  thy  sharper  wit, 
Will." 

"  A  pox  on  Ben  Jonson  for  a  surly,  envious  dog  !  " 
exclaimed  Laurence  Fletcher.  "  I  marvel  to  hear  thee 
speak  kindly  of  him,  Will.  After  thy  soliciting  us 
to  play  his  comedy,  for  him  to  make  a  mock  of  thee 
and  our  other  writers,  in  the  silly  pedantic  stuff 
those  brats  squeak  out  at  the  Blackfriars  !  "  Master 
Fletcher  was,  evidently,  easily  heated  on  the  subject 
of  the  satirical  pieces  written  by  Jonson  for  the 
Chapel  Royal  boys  to  play  at  the  Blackfriars  Theatre, 
in  which  the  Globe  plays  were  ridiculed.11  "A  pox 
on  him,  I  say,  and  his  tedious  '  humors  ! ' '  Where 
upon  Master  Fletcher  turned  his  attention  to  the 
beef,  which  had  just  arrived. 

"Nay,"  said  Shakespeare,  "his  merit  hath  had  too 
slow  a  greeting,  and  too  scant  applause.  So  the  wit 
in  him  hath  soured  a  little,  —  as  wine  too  long  kept 
exposed,  for  want  of  being  in  request." 

"Well,"  cried  Hal  Marryott,  warmed  by  copious 
draughts  of  the  hot  sugared  sack,  "  may  I  never 
drink  again  but  of  hell  flame,  nor  eat  but  at  the 
devil's  own  table,  if  aught  ever  sour  me  to  such  in 
gratitude  for  thy  beneficence,  Master  Shakespeare !  " 

"  Go  to,  Harry !  I  have  not  benefited  thee,  nor 
Ben  Jonson  neither." 

"  Never,    indeed  !       God    wot  !  "    exclaimed     Hal, 


AT  THE    TAVERNS..  5  I 

spearing  with  his  knife-point  a  slice  of  beef,  to 
convey  it  from  his  platter  to  his  mouth  (forks  were 
not  known  in  England  till  ten  years  later).  "  To 
open  thy  door  to  a  gentleman  just  thrown  out  of  an 
alehouse,  to  feed  him  when  he  hath  not  money  to 
pay  for  a  radish,  to  lodge  him  when  he  hath  not  right 
of  tenure  to  a  dung-hill,  —  these  are  no  benefits, 
forsooth." 

"  Was  that  thy  condition,  then,  when  he  took  thee 
as  coadjutor?"  Fletcher  asked,  a  little  surprised. 

"  That  and  worse,"  answered  Hal.  "  Hath  Mr. 
Shakespeare  never  told  you?" 

"  Never  but  thou  wert  a  gentleman  desirous  of 
turning  player.  Let's  hear  it,  an  thou  wilt." 

"Ay,  let  us!"  cried  Heminge  and  Condell ;  and 
Sly  added:  "For  a  player  to  turn  gentleman  is 
nothing  wonderful  now,  but  that  a  gentleman  should 
turn  player  hath  puzzled  me."  lz 

"Why,"  quoth  Harry,  now  vivacious  with  wine, 
and  quite  ready  to  do  most  of  the  talking,  "  you  shall 
see  how  a  gentleman  might  easily  have  turned  far 
worse  than  player.  'Twas  when  I  was  newly  come 
to  London,  in  1598,  not  three  years  ago.  Ye've  all 
heard  me  tell  of  the  loss  of  mine  estate  in  Oxford 
shire,  through  the  deviltry  of  the  law  and  of  my 
kinsman.  When  my  cousin  took  possession,  he 
would  have  got  me  provided  for  at  one  of  the  uni 
versities,  to  be  rid  of  me  ;  but  I  had  no  mind  to  be 


52  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

made  a  poor  scholar  of  ;  for,  look  you,  my  bringing 
up  in  my  father's  house  had  been  fit  for  a  nobleman's 
son.  I  knew  my  Latin  and  my  lute,  could  hunt  and 
hawk  with  any,  and  if  I  had  no  practice  at  tilt  and 
tourney,  I  made  up  for  that  lack  by  my  skill  with  the 
rapier.  Well,  just  when  I  should  have  gone  to  Italy, 
Germany,  and  France,  for  my  education,  my  father 
died,  and  my  mother  ;  and  I  was  turned  out  of  house, 
wherefore  I  say,  a  curse  on  all  bribe-taking  judges  and 
unnatural  kin !  I  told  my  cousin  what  he  might  do 
with  the  dirty  scholarship  he  offered  me,  and  a  pox 
on  it !  and  swore  I  would  hang  for  a  thief  ere  I 
would  take  anything  of  his  giving.  All  that  I  had 
in  the  world  was  a  horse,  the  clothes  on  my  body,  — 
for  I  would  not  go  back  to  his  house  for  others,  hav 
ing  once  left  it,  —  my  rapier  and  dagger,  and  a  little 
purse  of  crowns  and  angels.  There  was  but  one 
friend  whom  I  thought  it  would  avail  me  to  seek, 
and  to  his  house  I  rode,  in  Hertfordshire.  He  was 
a  Catholic  knight,  whose  father  had  sheltered  my 
grandfather,  a  Protestant,  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Mary,  and  now  went  I  to  him,  to  make  myself 
yet  more  his  debtor  in  gratitude.  Though  he  had 
lived  most  time  in  France,  since  the  Babington  con 
spiracy,  he  now  happened  to  be  at  home  ;  yet  he 
could  do  nothing  for  me,  his  estate  being  sadly 
diminished,  and  he  about  to  sail  again  for  the 
country  where  Catholics  are  safer.  But  he  gave 


AT   THE    TAVERNS.  S3 

me  a  letter  to  my  lord  of  Essex,  by  whom,  as  by 
my  father,  he  was  no  less  loved  for  being  a  Catholic. 
When  I  read  the  letter,  I  thought  my  fortune  made. 
To  London  I  rode,  seeing  myself  already  high  in  the 
great  earl's  service.  At  the  Bell,  in  Carter  Lane,  I 
lodged,  and  sogleesome  a  thing  it  was  to  me  to  be  in 
London,  so  many  were  the  joys  to  be  bought  here,  so 
gay  the  taverns,  so  irresistible  the  wenches,  that  ere 
ever  I  found  time  to  present  my  letter  to  the  earl  I 
had  spent  my  angels  and  crowns,  besides  the  money 
I  had  got  for  my  horse  in  Smithfield.  But  I  was 
easy  in  mind.  My  lord  would  assuredly  take  me  into 
his  house  forthwith,  on  reading  my  friend's  letter. 
The  next  morning,  as  I  started  for  Essex  House, 
a  gentleman  I  had  met  in  the  taverns  asked  me  if 
I  had  heard  the  news.  I  had  not ;  so  he  told  me. 
My  lord  of  Essex  had  yesterday  turned  his  back  on 
the  queen,  and  clapped  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  — 
you  remember  the  time,  masters  —  " 

"Ay,"  said  Sly.  "The  queen  boxed  his  ears  for 
it.  The  dispute  was  over  the  governorship  of 
Ireland." 

"  My  lord  was  in  disgrace,"  Hal  went  on,  "and  like 
to  be  charged  with  high  treason.  So  little  I  knew  of 
court  matters,  I  thought  this  meant  his  downfall,  and 
that  the  letter,  if  seen,  might  work  only  to  my  prej 
udice  and  my  friend's.  So  I  burned  it  at  the  tavern 
fire,  and  wondered  what  a  murrain  to  do.  I  went  to 


54  A    GENTLEMAAT  PLAYER. 

lodge  in  Honey  Lane,  pawned  my  weapons,  then  my 
cloak,  and  finally  the  rest  of  my  clothes,  having  bought 
rags  in  Houndsditch  in  the  meantime.  Rather  than 
go  back  to  Oxfordshire  I  would  have  died  in  the 
street,  and  was  like  to  do  so,  at  last ;  for  my  host, 
having  asked  for  his  money  one  night  when  I  was 
drunk  and  touchy,  got  such  an  answer  that  he  and 
his  drawer  cudgelled  me  and  threw  me  out.  So 
bruised  I  was,  that  I  could  scarce  move  ;  but  I  got 
up,  and  walked  to  the  Conduit  in  Cheapside.  There 
I  lay  down,  full  of  aches  ;  and  then  was  it  that  Mr. 
Shakespeare,  returning  late  from  the  tavern,  happened 
to  step  on  me  as  I  lay  blocking  the  way.  What  it 
was  that  moved  him  to  stop  and  examine  me,  I  know 
not.  But,  having  done  so,  he  led  me  to  his  lodgings 
in  St.  Helen's  ;  whence,  for  one  in  my  condition,  it 
was  truly  no  downward  step  to  the  playhouse  stage, 
—  and  thankful  was  I  when  he  offered  me  that 
step  !  " 

"  I  perceived  from  the  manner  of  thy  groan,  when 
I  trod  on  thee,  'twas  no  common  vagabond  under 
foot,"  said  Shakespeare. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Burbage  came  in,  not 
to  eat,  for  he  had  already  supped  at  his  house  in 
Holywell  Street,  Shoreditch,  but  to  join  a  little 
in  the  drinking.  The  room  was  now  full  of  tobacco 
smoke,  for  most  of  the  players  had  set  their  pipes 
a-going.  Mr.  Shakespeare  did  not  smoke ;  but  Hal 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  55 

Marryott,  as  a  youth  who  could  let  no  material  joy 
go  by  untasted,  was  as  keen  a  judge  of  Trinidado  or 
Nicotian  as  any  sea-dog  from  "the  Americas." 

"  'Tis  how  many  hundred  years,  Will,  since  this 
Prince  Hamlet  lived  ?  "  said  Heminge,  the  talk  hav 
ing  led  thereto ;  and  he  went  on,  not  waiting  for 
answer,  "  Yet  to-day  we  players  bring  him  back  to 
life,  and  make  him  to  be  remembered." 

"  Ay,"  replied  Shakespeare,  "  many  a  dead  and 
rotten  king  oweth  a  resurrection  and  posthumous 
fame  to  some  ragged  scholar  or  some  poor  player." 

"  And  we  players,"  said  Burbage,  with  a  kind  of 
sigh,  "  who  make  dead  men  remembered,  are  by  the 
very  nature  of  our  craft  doomed  to  be  forgot.  Who 
shall  know  our  very  names,  three  poor  hundred  years 
hence  ? " 

"Why,"  said  Condell,  "our  names  might  live  by 
the  printing  of  them  in  the  books  of  the  plays  we  act 
in  ;  a  printed  book  will  last  you  a  long  time." 

"  Not  such  books  as  these  thievish  printers  make 
of  our  plays,"  said  Sly,  himself  a  writer  of  plays. 

"  Marry,  I  should  not  wish  long  life  to  their  blun 
dering,  distorted  versions  of  any  play  I  had  a  hand 
in  making,"  said  Shakespeare. 

"But  consider,"  said  Condell;  "were  a  decent 
printing  made  of  all  thy  plays,  Will,  all  in  one  book, 
from  the  true  manuscripts  we  have  at  the  theatre, 
and  our  names  put  in  the  book,  Dick's  name  at  the 


56  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

head,  then  might  not  our  names  live  for  our  having 
acted  in  thy  plays?" 

Mr.  Burbage  smiled  amusedly,  but  said  nothing, 
and  Shakespeare  answered  : 

"  'Twould  be  a  dead  kind  of  life  for  them,  me- 
thinks ;  buried  in  dusty,  unsold  volumes  in  the  book 
sellers'  shops  in  Paul's  Churchyard." 

"  Nay,  I  would  venture  something,"  said  Master 
Heminge,  thoughtfully,  "that  a  book  of  tJiy  plays 
were  sure  to  be  opened." 

"Ay,  that  some  shopman's  'prentice  might  tear 
out  the  leaves,  to  wrap  fardels  withal,"  said  Shake 
speare.  "  Three  hundred  years,  Dick  said.  'Tis  true, 
books  of  the  ancients  have  endured  to  this  day ;  but 
if  the  world  grows  in  learning  as  it  hath  in  our  own 
time,  each  age  making  its  own  books,  and  better  and 
wiser  ones,  what  readers  shall  there  be,  think  you,  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1900,  for  the  rude  stage-plays 
of  Will  Shakespeare,  or  even  for  his  poems,  that  be 
writ  with  more  care  ?  " 

"  'Twould  be  strange,  indeed,"  said  Burbage, 
"that  a  player  should  be  remembered  after  his 
death,  merely  for  his  having  acted  in  some  certain 
play  or  set  of  plays."  He  did  not  add,  but  did  he 
think,  that  Will  Shakespeare's  plays  were  more  like 
to  be  remembered,  if  at  all,  for  Mr.  Burbage's 
having  acted  in  them  ? I3 

"Why  art  thou  silent,  lad,"  said  Shakespeare  to 


AT   THE    TAVERNS.  57 

Hal  Marryott,  by  way  of  changing  the  subject,  "and 
thy  gaze  lost  in  thy  clouds  of  smoke,  as  if  thou 
sawest  visions  there  ?  " 

"  I'  faith,  I  do  see  a  vision  there,"  said  Harry,  now 
in  the  enraptured  stage  of  wine,  and  eager  to  un 
bosom  himself.  "Would  I  were  a  poet,  like  thee, 
that  I  might  describe  it.  Ye  gods,  what  a  face ! 
The  eyes  have  burned  into  my  heart.  Cupid  hath 
made  swift  work  of  me  !  " 

"  Why,  this  must  be  since  yesterday,"  said  Sly. 

"Since  four  o'  the  clock  to-day,"  cried  Hal. 

"Then  thou  canst  no  more  than  have  seen  her," 
remarked  Fletcher. 

"  To  see  her  was  to  worship  her.  Drink  with  me 
to  her  eyes,  an  ye  love  me,  masters !  " 

"  To  her  nose  also,  and  mouth  and  cheeks  and  ears, 
an  thou  wilt,"  said  Sly,  suiting  action  to  word. 

"  Don't  think  this  is  love  in  thee,  lad,"  said 
Fletcher.  "  Love  is  of  slower  growth." 

"Then  all  our  plays  are  wrong,"  said  Sly. 

"Why,  certes,  it  may  be  love,"  said  Shakespeare. 
"  Love  is  a  flame  of  this  fashion  :  the  first  sight  of 
a  face  will  kindle  it  in  shape  of  a  spark.  An  there 
be  no  further  matter  to  fan  and  feed  the  spark 
withal,  'twill  soon  die,  having  never  been  aught 
but  a  spark,  keen  though  its  scorch  for  a  time ; 
a  mere  seedling  of  love,  a  babe  smothered  at  birth. 
But  an  there  be  closer  commerce,  to  give  fuel  and 


58  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

breeze  to  the  spark,  it  shall  grow  into  flame,  a  flame, 
look  you,  that  with  proper  feeding  shall  endure 
forever,  like  sacred  fires  judiciously  replenished  and 
maintained ;  but  too  much  fuel,  or  too  little,  or  a 
change  in  the  wind,  will  smother  it,  or  starve  it,  or 
violently  put  it  out.  Harry  hath  the  spark  well 
lighted,  as  his  raving  showeth,  and  whether  it  shall 
soon  burn  out,  or  wax  into  a  blaze,  lies  with  future 
circumstance." 

Harry  declared  that,  if  not  otherwise  fed,  it  would 
devour  himself.  Thereupon  Master  Sly  suggested 
drowning  it  in  sack ;  and  one  would  have  thought 
Hal  was  trying  to  do  so.  But  the  more  he  drank, 
the  more  was  he  engulfed  in  ideas  of  her  who  had 
charmed  him.  Still  having  a  kind  of  delusion  that 
she  was  in  a  manner  present,  he  discoursed  as  if  for 
her  to  overhear. 

Ere  he  knew  it,  the  other  players  were  speaking 
of  bed.  Mr.  Burbage  had  already  slipped  out  to 
fulfil  some  mysterious  engagement  for  the  night 
within  the  city,  which  matter,  whatever  it  was,  had 
been  the  cause  of  his  coming  after  supper  from  his 
home  beyond  the  bars  of  Bishopsgate  Street  without 
the  walls.  Master  Heminge's  apprentices  (for  Master 
Heminge  was  a  grocer  as  well  as  an  actor)  had  come 
to  escort  him  and  Master  Condell  to  their  houses  in 
Aldermanbury ;  and  sturdy  varlets  were  below  to 
serve  others  of  the  company  in  like  duty.  At  this 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  59 

late  hour  such  guards  against  robbers  were  neces 
sary  in  London  streets.  But  Harry,  who  then  lodged 
in  the  same  house  with  Mr.  Shakespeare,  in  St. 
Helen's,  Bishopsgate/4  was  not  yet  for  going  home. 
He  would  make  the  cannikin  clink  for  some  hours 
more.  Knowing  the  lad's  ways,  and  his  ability  to 
take  care  of  himself,  Mr.  Shakespeare  left  him  to  his 
desires  ;  and  at  last  Harry  had  no  other  companion 
than  Will  Sly,  who  still  had  head  and  stomach  for 
another  good-night  flagon  or  two.  When  Sly  in  turn 
was  shaky  on  his  legs  and  half  asleep,  Harry  accom 
panied  him  and  his  man  to  their  door,  reluctantly 
saw  it  close  upon  them,  and  then,  solitary  in  night- 
wrapped  London,  looked  up  and  down  the  narrow 
street,  considering  which  way  to  roam  in  search  of 
congenial  souls,  minded,  like  himself,  to  revel  out 
the  merry  hours  of  darkness. 

He  loathed  the  thought  of  going  to  bed  yet,  and 
would  travel  far  to  find  a  fellow  wassailer.  His  three 
shillings  —  though  that  sum  then  would  buy  more 
than  a  pound  buys  to-day  —  had  gone  at  the  Mer 
maid.  He  bethought  himself  of  the  taverns  at  which 
he  might  have  credit.  The  list  not  offering  much 
encouragement,  he  at  last  started  off  at  random, 
leaving  events  to  chance. 

Plunging  and  swaying,  rather  than  walking,  he 
traversed  a  few  streets,  aimlessly  turning  what 
corners  presented  themselves.  The  creaking  of 


6O  A    GENTLEMAN'  PLAYER. 

the  signs  overhead  in  the  wind  mingled  with  the 
more  mysterious  sounds  of  the  night.  Once  he 
heard  a  sudden  rush  of  feet  from  a  narrow  lane, 
and  instantly  backed  against  a  doorway,  whipping 
out  rapier  and  dagger.  Two  gaunt,  ill-looking  ras 
cals,  disclosed  by  a  lantern  hanging  from  an  upper 
window,  stood  back  and  inspected  him  a  moment ; 
then,  probably  considering  him  not  worth  the  risk, 
vanished  into  the  darkness  whence  they  had 
emerged. 

More  roaming  brought  Hal  into  Paternoster 
Row,  and  thence  into  Ave  Maria  Lane,  giving 
him  an  occasional  glimpse  at  the  left,  between 
houses,  of  the  huge  bulk  of  St.  Paul's  blotting 
darkly  a  darkness  of  another  tone.  At  Ludgate, 
boldly  passing  himself  off  upon  the  blinking  watch 
man  as  a  belated  page  of  Sir  Robert  Cecil's,  he  got 
himself  let  through,  when  he  ought  to  have  been 
taken  before  the  constable  as  a  night-walker ;  and 
so  down  the  hill  he  went  into  Fleet  Street.  The 
taverns  were  now  closed  for  the  night  to  all  outward 
appearance,  the  bells  of  Bow  and  other  churches 
having  rung  the  curfew  some  hours  since,  —  at  nine 
o'clock.  But  Hal  knew  that  merriment  was  awake 
behind  more  than  one  cross-barred  door-post  or  red 
lattice ;  and  he  tried  several  doors,  but  in  vain.  At 
last  he  found  himself  under  the  sign  of  the  Devil,  on 
the  south  side  of  the  street,  close  to  Temple  Bar. 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  6 1 

There  was  likelihood  that  Ben  Jonson  might  be 
there,  for  Ben  also  was  a  fellow  of  late  hours.  Hal's 
heart  suddenly  warmed  toward  Master  Jonson ;  he 
forgot  the  satire  on  the  Globe  plays,  the  apparent 
ingratitude  to  Shakespeare,  and  thought  only  of  the 
convivial  companion. 

Much  knocking  on  the  door  brought  a  servant  of 
the  tavern,  by  whom  Hal,  learning  that  Master  Jon 
son  was  indeed  above,  sent  up  his  name.  He  was 
at  length  admitted,  and  found  his  way  to  a  large 
room  in  which  he  beheld  the  huge  form  and  corru 
gated  countenance  of  him  he  sought.  Master  Jonson 
filled  a  great  chair  at  one  side  of  a  square  table,  and 
was  discoursing  to  a  group  of  variously  attired  gen 
tlemen,  Temple  students,  and  others,  this  audience 
being  in  all  different  stages  of  wine.  He  greeted 
Master  Hal  in  a  somewhat  severe  yet  paternal  man 
ner,  beckoned  him  to  his  chair-side,  and  inquired  in 
an  undertone  how  Mr.  Shakespeare  fared.  Mani 
festly  the  "  war  of  the  theatres,"  as  it  was  called, 
had  not  destroyed  the  private  esteem  between  the 
two  dramatists.  Hal's  presence  caused  the  talk  to 
fall,  in  time,  upon  the  new  "  Hamlet,"  which  some 
of  the  then  present  members  of  the  tribe  of  Ben  had 
seen. 

One  young  gentleman  of  the  Temple,  in  the  inso 
lent  stage  of  inebriety,  spoke  sneeringly  of  the  play; 
whereupon  Hal  answered  hotly.  Both  flashed  out 


62  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

rapiers  at  the  same  instant,  and  as  the  table  was 
between  them  Hal  leaped  upon  it,  to  reach  more 
quickly  his  opponent.  Only  the  prompt  action  of 
Master  Jonson,  who  mounted  the  table,  making  it 
groan  beneath  his  weight,  and  thrust  himself  between 
the  two,  cut  short  the  brawl.  But  now,  each  antago 
nist  deeming  himself  the  aggrieved  person,  and  the 
Templar  being  upheld  by  several  of  the  company, 
and  a  great  noise  of  tongues  arising,  and  the  host 
running  in  to  suppress  the  tumult,  it  was  considered 
advisable  to  escort  Master  Marryott  from  the  place. 
He  was  therefore  hustled  out  by  Master  Jonson,  the 
host,  and  a  tapster  ;  and  so  found  himself  eventually 
in  the  street,  the  door  barred  against  him. 

He  then  perceived  that  he  was  without  his  rapier. 
It  had  been  wrested  from  him  at  the  first  interference 
with  the  quarrel.  Wishing  to  recover  it,  and  in  a 
wrathful  spirit,  he  pounded  on  the  door  with  his 
dagger  hilt,  and  called  out  loudly  for  the  return  of 
his  weapon ;  but  his  efforts  being  misinterpreted,  he 
was  left  to  pound  and  shout  in  vain.  Baffled  and 
enraged,  he  started  back  toward  Ludgate,  with 
some  wild  thought  of  enlisting  a  band  of  ruffians  to 
storm  the  tavern.  But  the  wine  had  now  got  so 
complete  possession  of  him  that,  when  a  figure 
emerging  from  Water  Lane  bumped  heavily  against 
him,  all  memory  of  the  recent  incident  was  knocked 
out  of  his  mind. 


AT  THE    TAVERNS.  63 

"What  in  the  fiend's  name  —  -"grumbled  the  new 
comer  ;  then  suddenly  changed  his  tone.  "  Why, 
od's-body,  'tis  Master  Marryott !  Well  met,  boy ! 
Here  be  thy  two  shillings,  and  never  say  Kit  Bottle 
payeth  not  his  debts.  I've  just  been  helping  my 
friend  to  his  lodging  here  at  the  sign  of  the  Hanging 
Sword.  'Twas  the  least  I  could  do  for  him.  Art 
for  a  merry  night  of  it,  my  bawcock  ?  Come  with 
me  to  Turnbull  Street.  There  be  a  house  there, 
where  I  warrant  a  welcome  to  any  friend  of  Kit 
Bottle's.  I've  been  out  of  favor  there  of  late,  but 
now  my  pockets  sing  this  tune  "  (he  rattled  the  coin 
in  them),  "and  arms  will  be  open  for  us." 

Rejoiced  at  this  encounter,  Hal  took  the  captain's 
arm,  and  strode  with  him  through  Shoe  Lane,  across 
Holborn  Bridge,  through  Cow  Lane,  past  the  Pens  of 
Smithfield,  and  so  —  undeterred  by  sleeping  watch 
men  or  by  the  post-and-chain  bar  —  into  Turnbull 
Street.15  Kit  knocked  several  times  at  the  door  of 
one  of  the  forward-leaning  houses,  before  he  got  a 
response.  Then  a  second-story  casement  was  opened, 
and  a  hoarse  female  voice  asked  who  was  below. 

"  What,  canst  not  see  'tis  old  Kit,  by  the  flame  of 
his  nose  ?  "  replied  the  captain. 

The  woman  told  him  to  wait  a  minute,  and  with 
drew  from  the  window. 

"See,  lad,"  whispered  Bottle,  "'tis  late  hours 
when  Kit  Bottle  can't  find  open  doors.  To  say 


64  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

true,  I  was  afeard  my  welcome  here  might  be  a 
little  halting ;  but  it  seems  old  scores  are  forgot. 
We  shall  be  merry  here,  Hal !  " 

A  sudden  splash  at  their  very  feet  made  them  start 
back  and  look  up  at  the  window.  A  pair  of  hands, 
holding  an  upturned  pail,  was  swiftly  drawn  back, 
and  the  casement  was  then  immediately  closed. 

Bottle  smothered  an  oath.  "  Wert  caught  in  any 
of  that  shower,  lad  ?  "  he  asked  Hal. 

"  'Scaped  by  an  inch,"  said  Hal,  with  a  hiccough. 
"  Marry,  is  this  thy  welcome  ?  " 

Kit's  wrath  against  the  inmates  of  the  house  now 
exploded.  Calling  them  "scullions,"  "scavengers," 
and  names  still  less  flattering,  he  began  kicking  and 
hammering  on  the  door  as  if  to  break  it  down. 
Moved  by  the  spirit  of  violence,  Hal  joined  him  in 
this  demonstration.  The  upper  windows  opened,  and 
voices  began  screaming  "  Murder  !  "  and  "Thieves  !  " 
In  a  short  time  several  denizens  of  the  neighbor 
hood  —  which  was  a  neighborhood  of  nocturnal 
habits  —  appeared  in  the  street.  Seeing  how  mat 
ters  stood,  they  fell  upon  Kit  and  Hal,  mauling  the 
pair  with  fists,  and  tearing  off  their  outer  garments. 

Soon  a  cry  went  up,  "  The  watch  !  "  whereupon 
Hal,  with  memories  of  restraint  and  inconvenience 
to  which  he  had  once  before  been  put,  called  upon 
Kit  to  follow,  and  made  a  dash  toward  the  end  of 
the  street.  He  speedily  was  out  of  pursuit,  and  the 


AT  THE    TAVERNS,  65 

sound  of  Bottle's  voice  growling  out  objurgations, 
close  behind  him,  satisfied  him  that  the  old  soldier 
was  at  his  heels.  Hal,  therefore,  ran  on,  making  no 
impediment  of  the  bars,  and  passed  the  Pens  without 
slack  of  speed.  Stopping  in  Cow  Lane  he  looked 
back,  and  to  his  surprise  saw  that  he  was  now  quite 
alone. 

He  went  immediately  back  over  his  tracks  in 
search  of  Bottle,  but  found  no  one.  Turnbull  Street 
had  subsided  into  its  former  outward  appearance  of 
desertion.  Thinking  that  Bottle  might  have  passed 
him  in  the  darkness,  Hal  returned  southward.  When 
he  arrived  in  Fleet  Street  he  retained  but  a  confused, 
whirling  recollection  of  what  had  occurred.  Yet  his 
mood  was  still  for  company  and  carouse.  With  great 
joy,  therefore,  he  observed  that  a  humble  little  ale 
house  to  which  he  sometimes  resorted,  near  Fleet 
Bridge,  was  opening  for  the  day,  as  dawn  was  ap 
pearing.  He  went  in  and  ordered  wine. 

The  tapster,  who  knew  him,  remarked  with  aston 
ishment  that  he  was  without  hat  or  cloak ;  and  the 
morning  being  very  cold,  and  Hal  unlikely  to  meet 
any  person  of  quality  at  that  hour,  the  fellow  offered 
him  a  surcoat  and  cap,  such  as  were  worn  by  appren 
tices,  to  protect  him  from  chill  on  the  way  home 
ward.  Hal,  who  was  now  half  comatose,  passively 
let  himself  be  thus  fortified  against  the  weather. 
With  the  sum  repaid  him  by  Bottle  he  was  able  to 


66  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

buy  good  cheer ;  his  only  lack  was  of  company  to 
share  it  with.  He  could  not  hope  at  this  hour 
to  fall  in  with  another  late-hour  man  ;  it  was  now 
time  for  the  early  rising  folk  to  be  abroad. 

In  from  the  street  came  half  a  dozen  hardy  look 
ing  fellows,  calling  for  beer  to  be  quickly  drawn,  as 
they  had  far  to  go  to  their  work.  Their  dress  was 
of  leather  and  coarse  cloth,  and  the  tools  they  car 
ried  were  those  of  carpenters.  But  to  Hal,  who  now 
saw  things  vaguely,  they  were  but  fellow  mortals, 
and  thirsty.  He  welcomed  them  with  a  flourish  and 
an  imperative  invitation  to  drink.  This  they  readily 
accepted,  grinning  the  while  with  boorish  amusement. 
When  they  perforce  departed,  Hal,  unwilling  to  lose 
new-found  company  so  soon,  attached  himself  to 
them  ;  and  was  several  times  hindered  from  drag 
ging  them  into  taverns  as  they  passed,  by  their 
promise,  given  with  winks  invisible  to  him,  that 
they  would  drink  on  arriving  at  their  destination. 

So  he  went,  upheld  between  a  pair  of  them,  and 
heeding  not  the  way  they  took.  Though  it  was  now 
daylight,  he  was  past  recognizing  landmarks.  He 
had  the  dimmest  sense  of  passing  a  succession  of 
walled  and  turreted  mansions  at  his  left  hand ;  then 
of  catching  glimpses  of  more  open  and  park-like 
spaces  at  his  right  hand  ;  of  going,  in  a  grave  kind 
of  semi-stupor,  through  two  gateways  and  as  many 
courtyards  ;  of  being  passed  on,  with  the  compan- 


AT   THE    TAVERAVS.  6/ 

ions  to  whom  he  clung,  by  dull  warders,  and  by 
a  busy,  inattentive,  pompous  man  of  authority  to 
whom  his  comrades  reported  in  a  body ;  of  travers 
ing  with  them,  at  last,  a  passage  and  a  kind  of 
postern,  and  emerging  in  a  great  garden.  Here  the 
carpenters  seemed  to  become  sensible  of  having  com 
mitted  a  serious  breach  in  sportively  letting  him  be 
admitted  as  one  of  their  own  band.  They  held  a 
brief  consultation,  looking  around  in  a  half  frightened 
way  to  see  if  they  were  observed.  They  finally 
led  him  into  an  alley,  formed  by  hedgerows,  de 
posited  him  gently  on  the  ground,  and  hastened 
off  to  another  part  of  the  garden.  Once  recum 
bent,  he  turned  upon  his  side  and  went  instantly 
to  sleep. 

When  he  awoke,  several  hours  later,  without  the 
least  knowledge  what  garden  was  this  to  which  his 
eyes  opened,  or  the  least  recollection  how  he  had 
come  into  it,  he  saw,  looking  down  at  him  in  mild 
surprise,  a  slight,  yellow-haired,  pale-faced,  high- 
browed,  dark-eyed,  elderly  lady,  with  a  finely  curved 
nose,  a  resolute  mouth,  and  a  sharp  chin,  and  wear 
ing  a  tight-bodied,  wide-skirted  costume  of  silvered 
white  velvet  and  red  silk,  with  a  gold-laced,  ermine- 
trimmed  mantle,  and  a  narrow,  peaked  velvet  hat. 
Hal,  in  his  first  bewilderment,  wondered  where  it 
was  that  he  had  previously  seen  this  lady. 

"  Madam,"  he   said,   in  a  voice  husky  with  cold, 


68  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  I  seem  to  be  an  intruder.  By  your  favor,  what 
place  is  this  ?  " 

The  lady  looked  at  him  sharply  for  a  moment, 
then  answered,  simply : 

"  "Tis  the  garden  of  Whitehall  palace.  Who  are 
you  ? " 

Hal  suppressed  a  startled  exclamation.  He  re 
membered  now  where  he  had  seen  the  lady  :  'twas 
at  the  Christmas  court  performances.  He  flung 
into  a  kneeling  posture,  at  her  small,  beribboned, 
cloth-shod  feet. 

"I  am  your  Majesty's  most  loyal,  most  worshipful 
subject,"  he  said. 

"  And  what  the  devil  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  asked 
Queen  Elizabeth. 


CHAPTER    III. 

QUEEN    AND    WOMAN. 

"  And  commanded 
By  such  poor  passion  as  the  maid  that  milks." 

—  A  ntony  and  Cleopatra. 

THOUGH  Queen  Elizabeth  often  swore  at  her  ladies 
and  her  favorite  lords,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
she  would  ordinarily  address  a  stranger  in  such 
terms  as  she  used  but  now  toward  Master  Marryott.16 
Nor  was  it  the  surprise  of  finding  asleep  in  her  gar 
den  a  youth,  wearing  an  apprentice's  surcoat  over  a 
gentleman's  velvet  doublet,  —  for  Hal  had  moved  in 
his  sleep  so  as  to  disclose  part  of  the  doublet,  — 
and  silken  hose,  that  evoked  so  curt  an  expression. 
Neither  was  it  the  possibility  that  the  intruder  might 
be  another  Capt.  Thomas  Leigh,  who  had  been  found 
lurking  in  the  palace,  near  the  door  of  the  privy 
chamber,  a  day  or  two  after  the  Essex  rising,  and 
had  been  subsequently  put  to  death.  Had  a  thought 
of  assassination  taken  any  root  in  the  queen's  mind 
at  sight  of  the  slumbering  youth,  she  would,  doubt 
less,  have  behaved  as  on  a  certain  occasion  at  the 
time  of  the  Babington  conspiracy ;  when,  walking 

69 


70  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

in  her  garden,  and  being  suddenly  approached  by 
one  of  the  conspirators,  and  rinding  none  of  her 
guards  within  sight,  she  held  the  intruder  in  so 
intrepid  a  look  that  he  shrank  back  —  and  the  cap 
tain  of  her  guard  did  not  soon  forget  the  rating  she 
afterward  gave  him  for  that  she  had  been  left  thus 
exposed.  But  on  the  present  occasion  she  herself 
had  petulantly  ordered  back  the  little  train  of  gentle 
men  and  ladies  in  waiting,  guards,  and  pages,  who 
would  have  followed  her  into  the  alley  where  she 
now  was.  They  stood  in  separate  groups,  beyond 
the  tall  hedge,  out  of  view  but  not  out  of  call,  and 
wondering  what  had  put  her  majesty  this  morning 
into  such  a  choleric  desire  for  solitude.  For  that 
is  what  she  was  in,  and  what  made  her  words 
to  Hal  so  unlike  those  commonly  used  by  stage 
royalty  at  the  theatre. 

What  the  devil  was  he  doing  there  ?  Hal  asked 
himself,  as  he  gazed  helplessly  up  at  the  queen.  "  I 
know  not,"  he  faltered.  "  I  mean,  I  have  no  mem 
ory  of  coming  hither.  But  'tis  not  the  first  time, 
your  majesty,  I  have  waked  up  in  a  strange  place 
and  wondered  at  being  there.  I  —  I  drank  late  last 
night." 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  aching  head,  in  a  manner 
that  unconsciously  confirmed  his  confession  ;  and 
then  he  looked  at  his  coarse  surcoat  with  an  amaze 
ment  that  the  queen  could  not  doubt. 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  .          /I 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the  queen,  who 
seemed  to  have  her  own  reason  for  interrogating 
him  quietly  herself,  instead  of  calling  a  guard  and 
turning  him  over  to  some  officer  for  examination. 

"Harry  Marryott,  an  it  please  your  Majesty.  A 
player  in  the  lord  chamberlain's  company,  though  a 
gentleman  by  birth." 

Elizabeth  frowned  slightly  at  the  mention  of  the 
lord  chamberlain's  company ;  but  a  moment  after, 
strange  to  say,  there  came  into  her  face  the  sign 
of  a  sudden  secret  hope  and  pleasure. 

"Being  one  of  those  players,"  said  she,  "you 
are  well-wisher  to  the  foolish  men  who  partook  in 
the  late  treason  ? "  She  watched  narrowly  for  his 
answer. 

"  Not  well-wisher  to  their  treason,  madam,  I 
swear !  " 

"  But  to  themselves  ?  " 

"  As  to  men  who  have  been  our  friends,  we  wish 
some  of  them  whatever  good  may  consist  with  your 
Majesty's  own  welfare,  which  is  the  welfare  of  Eng 
land,  the  happiness  of  your  subjects.  But  that  wish 
makes  no  diminution  of  our  loyalty,  which  for  myself 
I  would  give  my  life  for  a  chance  of  proving."  He 
found  it  not  difficult  to  talk  to  this  queen,  so  human 
was  she,  so  outright,  direct,  and  to  the  point. 

"Why,"  she  replied,  in  a  manner  half  careless, 
half  significant,  as  if  she  were  trying  her  way  to 


72  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

some  particular  issue,  "  who  knows  but  you  may  yet 
have  that  chance,  and  at  the  same  time  fulfil  a  kind 
wish  toward  one  of  those  misguided  plotters.  An 
you  were  to  be  trusted  —  but  nay,  your  presence  here 
needs  some  accounting  for.  Dig  your  memory,  man  ; 
knock  your  brains,  and  recall  how  you  came  hither. 
Tis  worth  while,  youth,  for  you  doubtless  know  what 
is  supposed  of  men  found  unaccountably  near  our 
person,  and  what  end  is  made  of  them." 

Hal  was  horrified  and  heartstricken.  "  Madam," 
he  murmured,  "  if  my  queen,  who  is  the  source  and 
the  object  of  all  chivalrous  thoughts  in  every  gentle 
man's  breast  in  England,  one  moment  hold  it  possi 
ble  that  I  am  here  for  any  purpose  against  her,  let 
me  die !  Call  guards,  your  Majesty,  and  have  me 
slain !  " 

"Nay,"  said  Elizabeth,  convinced  and  really 
touched  by  his  feeling,  "  I  spoke  not  of  what  I 
thought,  but  of  what  others  might  infer.  Now  that 
I  perceive  your  quality,  it  hath  come  to  me  that  you 
might  serve  me  in  a  business  that  needs  such  a  man, 
—  a  man  not  known  at  court,  and  whom  it  would 
appear  impossible  I  could  have  given  audience  to. 
Indeed,  I  was  pondering  on  the  difficulty  of  finding 
such  a  man  in  the  time  afforded,  and  in  no  very 
sweet  humor  either,  when  the  sight  of  you  broke  in 
upon  my  thoughts." 

"  To  serve  your  Majesty  in  any  business  would  be 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  73 

my  supremest  joy,"  said  Hal,  eagerly  —  and  truly. 
His  feeling  in  this  was  that  of  all  young  English 
gentlemen  of  his  time. 

"But  this  tells  me  not  how  came  you  into  my 
private  garden,"  said  her  Majesty. 

"  I  remember  some  dispute  at  the  Devil  tavern," 
replied  Harry,  searching  his  memory.  "  And  roaming 
the  streets  with  one  Captain  Bottle,  and  being  chased 
out  of  some  neighborhood  or  other  —  and  there  I 
lose  myself.  It  seems  as  if  I  went  lugging  forward 
through  the  streets,  holding  to  an  arm  on  either  side, 
and  then  plunged  quite  out  of  this  world,  into  cloud, 
or  blackness,  or  nothing.  Why,  it  is  strange  — 
meseems  yonder  workman,  at  the  end  of  this  alley, 
had  some  part  in  my  goings  last  night." 

The  workman  was  a  carpenter,  engaged  in  erecting 
a  wooden  framework  for  an  arched  hedge  that  was  to 
meet  at  right  angles  the  alley  in  which  the  queen 
and  Harry  were.  The  man's  work  had  brought  him 
but  now  into  their  sight. 

The  queen,  who  on  occasion  could  be  the  most 
ceremonial  monarch  in  Christendom,  could,  when 
necessary,  be  the  most  matter-of-fact.  She  now 
gave  a  "  hem "  not  loud  enough  for  her  unseen 
attendants  to  hear,  but  sufficient  to  attract  the  car 
penter's  attention.  He  stood  as  if  petrified,  recog 
nizing  the  queen,  then  fell  upon  knees  that  the 
presence  of  Majesty  had  caused  to  quake.  Elizabeth 


74  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

motioned  him  to  her,  and  he  approached,  walking  on 
his  knees,  in  expectation  of  being  instantly  turned 
over  to  a  yeoman  of  the  guard.  Hal  himself  re 
mained  in  similar  posture,  which  was  the  attitude 
Elizabeth  required  of  all  who  addressed  her. 

"What  know  you  of  this  young  gentleman?"  she 
asked  the  carpenter,  in  a  tone  that  commanded  like 
quietness  in  his  manner  of  replying. 

The  fellow  cringed  and  shook,  begged  huskily  for 
mercy,  and  said  that  he  had  meant  no  harm  ;  ex 
plained  incoherently  that  the  young  gentleman, 
having  fallen  in  with  the  carpenters  when  in  his 
cups,  had  come  with  them  to  Whitehall  in  the  belief 
that  they  were  leading  him  to  a  drinking-place  ;  that 
they  had  been  curious  to  see  his  surprise  when  the 
porters,  guards,  or  palace  officers  should  confront 
him  ;  that  these  functionaries  had  inattentively  let 
him  pass  as  one  of  the  carpenters  ;  that  the  carpen 
ters  had  feared  to  disclaim  him  after  having  missed 
the  proper  moment  for  doing  so.  The  fellow  then 
began  whimpering  about  his  wife  and  eight  children, 
who  would  starve  if  he  were  hanged  or  imprisoned. 
The  queen  cut  him  short  by  ordering  that  he  and  his 
comrades  should  say  nothing  of  this  young  man's 
presence,  as  they  valued  their  lives  ;  hinted  at  dire 
penalties  in  case  of  any  similar  misdemeanor  in 
future,  and  sent  him  back  to  his  work. 

"  God's  death  !  "  she  then  said  to  Hal.      "  Watchful 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  75 

porters  and  officers !  I'll  find  those  to  blame,  and 
they  shall  smart  for  their  want  of  eyes.  A  glance 
at  your  hose  and  shoes,  muddy  though  they  be, 
would  have  made  you  out  no  workman.  Yet  per 
chance  I  shall  have  cause  not  to  be  sorry  for  their 
laxity  this  once.  If  it  be  that  you  are  the  man  to 
serve  me,  I  shall  think  you  God-sent  to  my  hand,  for 
God  he  knows  'twas  little  like  I  should  find  in  mine 
own  palace  a  man  not  known  there,  and  whom  it 
should  not  seem  possible  I  might  ever  have  talked 
withal !  Even  had  I  sent  for  such  an  one,  or  had 
him  brought  to  the  palace  for  secret  audience,  there 
had  needs  been  more  trace  left  of  my  meeting  him 
than  there  need  be  of  my  meeting  you." 

Hal  perceived  not  why  so  absolute  a  monarch  need 
conduct  any  matter  darkly,  or  hide  traces  of  her  hand 
in  it ;  but  he  said  nothing,  save  that,  if  it  might  fall 
his  happy  lot  to  serve  her,  the  gift  from  God  would 
be  to  himself. 

As  for  the  queen,  she  had  already  made  up  her 
mind  that  he  should  serve  her.  It  must  be  he,  or 
no  one.  She  had  come  to  the  garden  from  her  privy 
council,  with  a  certain  secret  act  in  her  mind,  an  act 
possible  to  her  if  the  right  agent  could  be  found  ; 
but  in  despair  of  finding  in  the  given  time  such  an 
agent,  —  one  through  whom  her  own  instigation  of 
the  act  could  never  be  traced  by  the  smallest  circum 
stance.  Here,  as  if  indeed  dropped  from  heaven, 


76  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

was  a  possible  agent  having  that  most  needed,  least 
expected,  qualification.  There  need  not  remain  the 
slightest  credible  evidence  of  his  present  interview 
with  her.  This  qualification  found  so  unexpectedly, 
without  being  sought,  she  was  willing  to  risk  that 
the  young  player  possessed  the  other  requisites, 
uncommon  though  they  were.  She  believed  he  was 
loyal  and  chivalrous  ;  therefore  he  would  be  as  likely 
to  keep  her  secret,  at  any  hazard  to  himself,  as  to 
serve  her  with  all  zeal  and  with  as  much  skill  as  he 
could  command.  By  seeming  to  hold  back  her  deci 
sion  as  to  whether  he  might  do  her  errand,  she  but 
gave  that  errand  the  more  importance,  and  whetted 
his  ambition  to  serve  her  in  it. 

"There  is  much  to  be  said,"  replied  the  queen, 
"  and  small  time  to  say  it  in.  'Tis  already  some 
minutes  since  I  left  my  people  without  the  hedge 
and  came  into  this  alley.  They  xvill  presently  think 
I  am  long  meditating  alone.  They  must  not  know  I 
have  seen  you,  or  that  you  were  here.  So  we  must 
needs  speak  swiftly  and  quietly.  As  for  those  car 
penters,  who  are  all  that  know  of  your  presence  here, 
I  have  thrown  that  fellow  into  so  great  a  fear,  he  and 
his  mates  will  keep  silence.  Now  heed.  My  privy 
council  hath  evidence  of  a  certain  gentleman's  part 
in  the  conspiracy  of  your  friends  who  abetted  the 
Lord  Essex.  'Tis  evidence  positive  enough,  and 
plenty  enough,  to  take  off  his  head,  or  twenty  heads 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  77 

an  he  had  them.  He  hath  not  the  slightest  knowl 
edge  that  he  is  betrayed.  'Tis  very  like  he  sits  at 
home,  in  the  country,  thinking  himself  secure,  while 
the  warrant  is  being  writ  for  his  arrest.  The  pur 
suivant  to  execute  the  warrant  is  to  set  out  with 
men  this  afternoon.  So  much  delay  have  I  con 
trived  to  cause." 

"Delay,  your  Majesty?"  echoed  Hal,  thinking  he 
might  have  wrongly  heard. 

"  Delay,"  repeated  Elizabeth,  using  for  her  extraor 
dinary  disclosures  a  quite  ordinary  tone.  "  I  have 
delayed  this  messenger  of  the  council  for  time  to 
plan  how  the  gentleman  may  escape  before  the 
arrest  can  be  made." 

She  waited  a  moment,  till  Hal's  look  passed  back 
from  surprise  to  careful  attention. 

"You  wonder  that  a  queen,  who  may  command 
all,  should  use  secret  means  in  such  a  matter.  You 
wonder  that  I  did  not  put  my  prohibition,  at  the  out 
set,  on  proceedings  against  this  gentleman.  Or  that 
I  do  not  now  order  them  stopped,  by  my  sovereign 
right.  Or  that  I  do  not  openly  pardon  him,  now  or 
later.  You  do  not  see,  young  sir,  that  sometimes  a 
monarch,  though  all-powerful,  may  have  reason  to 
sanction  or  even  command  a  thing,  yet  have  deep- 
hidden  reason  why  the  thing  should  be  undone." 

Hal  bowed.  He  had  little  knowledge,  or  curiosity, 
regarding  the  mysteries  of  state  affairs,  and  easily 


78  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

believed  that  the  general  weal  might  be  promoted  by 
the  queen's  outwardly  authorizing  a  subject's  arrest, 
and  then  secretly  compassing  his  escape.  And  yet 
he  might  have  known  that  a  Tudor's  motives  in 
interfering  with  the  natural  course  of  justice  were 
more  likely  to  be  private  than  public,  and  that  a 
Tudor's  circumstances  must  be  unusual  indeed  to 
call  for  clandestine  means,  rather  than  an  arbitrary 
mandate,  for  such  interference.  It  was  not  till  long 
afterward  that,  by  putting  two  and  two  together,  he 
formed  the  theory  which  it  is  perhaps  as  well  to  set 
forth  now,  at  the  opening  of  our  history. 

The  Essex  conspiracy  was  not  against  the  person 
or  supremacy  of  the  queen,  but  against  her  existing 
government,  which  the  plotters  hoped  to  set  aside 
by  making  her  temporarily  a  prisoner  and  forcing 
her  decrees.  They  avowed  the  greatest  devotion  to 
her  Majesty's  self.  As  a  woman,  she  had  little  or 
no  reason  for  bitter  feelings  against  them.  But  the 
safety  of  the  realm  required  that  the  principals  should 
suffer.  Yet  she  might  have  pardoned  her  beloved 
Essex,  had  she  received  the  ring  he  sent  her  in  claim 
of  the  promise  of  which  it  was  the  pledge.17  But 
thinking  him  too  proud  even  to  ask  the  mercy  he 
might  have  had  of  her,  she  let  him  die.  As  for  his 
chief  satellites,  there  were  some  for  whom  she  cared 
nothing,  some  against  whom  there  were  old  scores, 
and  who  might  as  well  be  dead  or  imprisoned  as  not, 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  79 

even  were  public  policy  out  of  the  question.  South 
ampton,  for  one,  had  offended  her  by  marrying,  and 
had  later  been  a  cause  of  sharp  passages  between 
her  and  Essex.  But  as  to  this  mysterious  gentle 
man,  of  whom  she  spoke  to  Master  Marryott  ? 

He  was  one  of  those  who  had  contrived  to  get 
safe  away  from  London,  and  who  felicitated  them 
selves  that  there  existed  no  trace  of  their  connection 
with  the  plot,  but  against  whom  evidence  had  even 
tually  arisen  in  private  testimony  before  the  council. 
Of  these  men,  it  was  decided  by  the  council  to  make 
at  least  one  capital  example,  and  this  particular  gen 
tleman  was  chosen,  for  his  being  a  Catholic  as  well 
as  a  conspirator. 

Now  the  fact  seems  to  have  been  that  Elizabeth, 
the  woman,  had  softer  recollections  of  this  gentleman 
than  Elizabeth,  the  queen,  was  fain  to  acknowledge 
to  third  parties.  He  was  not  alone  in  this  circum 
stance,  but  he  differed  from  Essex  and  other  favored 
gentlemen  in  several  particulars.  Being  a  Catholic, 
he  was  not  of  the  court.  Once,  many  years  before 
this  March  day,  the  queen,  while  hunting,  sought 
refuge  at  his  house  from  a  sudden  storm.  She 
prolonged  her  stay  on  pretexts,  and  then  kept  him 
in  attendance  during  one  of  her  journeyings.  Her 
association  with  him  was  conducted  with  unusual 
concealment.  It  was  not  violently  broken  off,  nor 
carried  on  to  satiety  and  natural  death.  It  was 


80  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

merely  interrupted  and  never  resumed.  Thus  it 
remained  sweet  in  her  memory,  took  on  the  soft, 
idealizing  tones  that  time  gives,  and  was  now  cher 
ished  in  her  heart  as  an  experience  apart  from,  and 
more  precious  than,  all  other  such.  It  was  the  one 
serene,  perfect  love-poem  of  her  life.  The  others 
had  been  stormy,  and  mixed  with  a  great  deal  of 
prose.  This  one  might  have  been  written  by  Mr. 
Edmund  Spenser.  And  it  was  the  dearer  to  her  for 
its  being  a  secret.  No  one  had  ever  known  of  it  but 
a  tight-mouthed  old  manservant  and  a  faithful  maid 
of  honor,  the  former  now  infirm,  the  latter  dead. 

She  could  not  endure  to  mar  this,  her  pet  romance, 
by  letting  its  hero  die  when  it  was  in  her  power  to 
save  him.  She  had  never  put  forth  her  hand,  nor 
had  he  asked  her  to  do  so,  to  shield  him  from  the 
smaller  persecutions  to  which  his  religion  had  ex 
posed  him  from  neighbors  and  judges  and  county 
officers,  and  which  had  forced  him  to  live  most  of 
the  time  an  exile  in  France.  But  death  was  another 
matter,  a  catastrophe  she  liked  not  to  think  of  as 
overtaking  him  through  operations  she  could  con 
trol  ;  and  this  was  none  the  less  true  though  she  had 
no  hope  of  ever  meeting  him  again. 

Moreover,  this  lover  had  upon  her  affection  one 
claim  that  others  had  forfeited  :  he  had  never  mar 
ried.18  That  alone  entitled  him  at  this  time,  in  her 
eyes,  to  a  consideration  not  merited  by  Essex  or 


QUP:EN  AND  WOMAN.  81 

Southampton.  And,  again,  her  fortitude  had  been 
so  drawn  upon  in  consigning  Essex  to  the  block, 
that  she  had  not  sufficient  left  to  tolerate  the  sacrifice 
of  this  other  sharer  of  her  heart. 

Now  that  fortitude  had  been  greatly,  though 
tacitly,  admired  by  the  lords  to  whom  she  wished  to 
appear  the  embodiment  of  regal  firmness,  and  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  confess  to  them  that 
it  was  exhausted,  or  unequal  to  the  next  demand 
upon  it.  More  than  ever,  in  these  later  days,  she 
desired  to  appear  strong  against  her  inner  feelings, 
or  indeed  to  appear  quite  above  such  inner  feelings 
as  she  had  too  often  shown  toward  her  favorite 
gentlemen.  That  she,  the  Virgin  Queen,  leader  of 
her  people,  conqueress  of  the  great  Armada,  had 
entertained  such  feelings  in  the  past,  and  been  so 
foolish  as  to  disclose  them,  was  the  greater  reason 
why  she  now,  when  about  to  leave  her  final  impres 
sion  upon  history,  should  seem  proof  against  them. 
To  refuse  her  sanction  to  the  council's  decision 
concerning  this  gentleman,  when  there  was  twofold 
political  reason  for  that  decision,  and  no  political 
reason  to  interpose  against  it,  would  open  the  doors 
upon  her  secret.  And  she  was  as  loath  to  expose 
her  tenderly  recollected  love  to  be  even  suspected  or 
guessed  at,  such  was  the  ideal  and  sacred  character 
it  had  taken  in  years  of  covert  memory,  as  she  was 
to  be  thought  still  prone  to  her  old  weakness.  As 


82  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

for  awaiting  events  and  eventually  saving  the  man 
by  a  pardon,  such  a  course,  in  view  of  her  having 
sanctioned  the  council's  choice  of  him  as  an  example, 
would  disclose  her  as  false  to  the  council,  and  capri 
cious  beyond  precedent,  and  would  betray  her  secret 
as  well.19 

So  here  was  one  case  in  which  she  dared  not  arbi 
trarily  oppose  the  council's  proceeding,  though  her 
old  lover's  arrest  meant  his  conviction,  as  sure  as 
verdict  was.  ever  decided  ere  judge  and  jury  sat,  — 
as  verdicts  usually  were  in  the  treason  trials  of  that 
blessed  reign.  For  her  peace  as  a  woman,  she  must 
prevent  that  arrest.  For  her  reputation  as  a  queen, 
she  must  seem  to  favor  it,  and  the  prevention  must 
be  secret.  One  weakness,  the  vanity  of  strength 
and  resolution,  required  that  the  indulgence  of 
another  weakness,  undue  tenderness  of  heart  toward 
a  particular  object,  should  be  covert.  The  queen's 
right  hand  must  not  know  what  the  woman's  left 
hand  did.  To  get  time  for  a  plan,  as  she  told  Hal, 
she  had  requested  that  the  pursuivant's  men,  while 
in  quest  of  the  gentleman,  might  bear  letters  to 
certain  justices  in  his  neighborhood  ;  the  preparation 
of  these  letters  would  delay,  for  a  few  hours,  the 
departure  of  the  warrant. 

For  her  purpose  she  needed  a  man  of  courage, 
adroitness,  and  celerity  ;  one  who  would  be  loyal  to 
the  secret  reposed  in  him  alone ;  one  so  out  of  court 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  83 

circles,  so  far  from  access  to  or  by  herself,  that  if  he 
ever  should  betray  her  part  in  his  mission  none 
would  believe  him ;  a  man  who  would  take  it  on 
faith,  as  Hal  really  did,  that  deep  state  reasons  dic 
tated  the  nullification,  secretly,  of  a  proceeding  granted 
openly,  —  for  this  strong  queen  would  not  have  even 
the  necessary  confidant,  any  more  than  the  lords  of 
the  council,  suspect  this  weak  woman. 

"The  man  who  is  my  servant  in  this,"  went  on  the 
queen,  "  must  seem  to  act  entirely  for  himself,  not 
for  me.  There  must  be  no  evidence  of  his  having 
served  me ;  so  he  will  never  receive  the  credit  of 
this  mission  for  his  sovereign,  save  in  that  sovereign's 
thoughts  alone." 

"Where  else  should  he  seek  it,  your  Majesty?" 
replied  Hal,  brought  to  this  degree  of  unselfish 
chivalry  by  the  influence  of  her  presence. 

"  Where  else,  truly  ? "  echoed  the  queen,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "  And  he  must  never  look  to  me  for 
protection,  should  he  find  himself  in  danger  of  prison 
or  death,  in  consequence  of  this  service.  Indeed,  if 
pressure  move  him  to  say  'twas  I  commissioned  him,  I 
shall  declare  it  a  lie  of  malice  or  of  deep  design,  meant 
to  injure  me." 

"Your  Majesty  shall  not  be  put  to  that  shift,  an  I 
be, your  happy  choice  for  the  business,"  said  Hal, 
thrilling  more  and  more  devotedly  to  the  task  as  it 
appeared  the  more  perilous  and  rewardless. 


84  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  You  will  be  required  to  go  from  London,"  con 
tinued  the  queen,  forgetting  her  pretence  that  he 
was  not  yet  certainly  her  choice  for  the  errand,  "  and 
to  give  your  friends  good  reason  for  your  absence." 

"  'Twill  be  easy,"  replied  the  player.  "  Our  com 
pany  goes  travelling  next  week.  I  can  find  necessity 
for  preceding  them.  One  Master  Crowe  can  play 
my  parts  till  I  fall  in  with  them  again." 

"  Even  this  gentleman,"  resumed  the  queen,  after 
a  moment's  thought,  and  a  consultation  with  pride 
and  prudence,  "  must  not  know  whom  you  obey  in 
saving  him.  Your  knowledge  of  his  danger  must 
seem  to  have  come  through  spy  work,  or  treachery 
in  the  palace,  and  your  zeal  for  his  safety  must 
appear  to  spring  from  your  friendship  for  the  Essex 
party.  The  gentleman's  mansion  is  near  Welwyn, 
in  Hertfordshire.  He  is  a  knight,  one  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood." 

Hal  suppressed  a  cry.  "Why,  then,"  he  said,  "I 
can  truly  appear  to  act  for  myself  in  saving  him. 
He  is  my  friend,  my  benefactor  ;  his  father  saved  my 
grandfather's  life  in  the  days  of  papistry.  I  shall 
not  be  put  to  the  invention  of  false  reasons  for 
saving  Sir  Valentine.  There  is  reason  enough  in 
friendship  and  gratitude.  I  knew  not  he  was  back 
in  England." 

"That  is  well,"  said  Elizabeth,  checking  a  too 
hearty  manifestation  of  her  pleasure  at  the  coinci- 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  85 

dence.  "  Now  hear  what  you  shall  do.  The  pursui 
vant  who  is  to  apprehend  him  will  ride  forth  this 
afternoon  at  about  three  o'  the  clock,  with  a  body  of 
men.  You  must  set  out  earlier,  arrive  at  Fleetwood 
house  before  them,  warn  Sir  Valentine  that  they  are 
coming,  persuade  him  to  fly,  whether  he  will  or  no, 
and  in  every  possible  manner  aid  and  hasten  his  safe 
departure  from  the  country." 

Hal  bowed.  His  look  betrayed  some  disappoint 
ment,  as  if  the  business  were  neither  as  difficult  nor 
as  dangerous  as  he  had  looked  for. 

The  queen  smiled. 

"  You  think  it  a  tame  and  simple  matter,"  she 
said.  "  A  mere  business  of  fast  riding  'twixt  London 
and  Welwyn,  and  thence  to  a  seaport.  But  allow  for 
the  unexpected,  young  sir,  which  usually  befalleth  ! 
Suppose  impediments  hinder  you,  as  they  hinder 
many  on  shorter  journeys.  Or  suppose  Sir  Valen 
tine  be  not  at  home  when  you"  arrive,  and  require 
seeking  lest  he  by  chance  fall  in  with  the  pursuivant 
ere  you  meet  him.  Suppose  he  be  not  of  a  mind  to 
fly  the  country,  but  doubt  your  warning,  or  choose 
to  stay  and  risk  trial  rather  than  invite  outlawry  and 
confiscation.  Suppose,  in  aiding  him,  you  encounter 
the  pursuivant  and  his  men.20  'Twill  be  your  duty  to 
resist  them  to  the  utmost,  even  with  your  life.  And 
should  you  be  overcome  and  taken,  you  know  what 
are  the  penalties  of  resisting  officers  on  the  queen's 


86  A    GENTLEMAN  1> LAYER. 

business,  and  of  giving  aid  to  her  enemies.  This 
business  will  make  you  as  much  a  traitor,  by  statute, 
as  Sir  Valentine  himself.  Remember,  if  you  be 
taken  I  shall  not  interfere  in  your  behalf.  It  shall 
be  that  I  know  naught  of  you,  and  that  I  hold  your 
act  an  impudent  treason  against  myself,  and  call  for 
your  lawful  death.  So  think  not  'tis  some  holiday 
riding  I  send  you  on  ;  and  go  not  lightly  as  'twere 
a-maying.  Be  ready  for  grave  dangers  and  obstruc 
tions.  Look  to't  ye  be  not  taken  !  Perchance  your 
own  safety  may  yet  lie  in  other  countries  for  a  time, 
ere  all  is  done.  Look  for  the  unexpected,  I  tell 
you." 

"I  shall  be  heedful,  your  majesty.  I  crave  your 
pardon,  —  -  'tis  shame  I  must  confess  it,  —  there  will  be 
horses  to  obtain,  and  other  matters  ;  I  lack  means  — 

"  By  God's  light,  'tis  well  I  came  by  a  purse-full 
this  morning,  and  forgetfully  bore  it  with  me,  having 
much  on  my  mind,"  said  Elizabeth,  detaching  a  purse 
from  her  girdle  and  handing  it  to  Hal.  "  I'm  not 
wont  of  late  to  go  so  strong  in  purse.21  Pour  these 
yellow  pieces  into  your  pocket  —  no  need  to  count 
—  and  leave  but  two  or  three  to  make  some  noise 
withal."  When  Hal  had  obeyed  her,  she  took  back 
the  purse  and  replaced  it  at  her  girdle.  "  Use  what 
you  need  in  the  necessary  costs  ;  supply  Sir  Valen 
tine  an  he  require  money,  and  let  the  rest  be  pay 
ment  to  yourself.  Nay,  'twill  be  small  enough,  God's 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  8/ 

name  !  Yet  I  see  no  more  reward  for  you  —  until 
all  be  smoothly  done,  and  time  hath  passed,  and  you 
may  find  new  access  to  me  in  other  circumstance. 
Then  I  shall  remember,  and  find  way  of  favoring 
you." 

Hal  thereupon  had  vague,  distant  visions  of  him 
self  as  a  gentleman  pensioner,  and  as  a  knight,  and 
as  otherwise  great ;  but  he  said  only  : 

"  The  trust  you  place  in  me  is  bounteous  reward, 
your  Majesty!  " 

To  which  her  Majesty  replied  : 

"  Bid  yon  carpenter  lead  you  from  the  garden  by 
private  ways,  that  you  may  pass  out  as  you  entered, 
in  the  guise  of  a  workman.  Lose  no  time,  thence 
forth,  — •  and  God  bless  thee,  lad  !  " 

Hal  was  in  the  seventh  heaven.  She  had  actually 
thee'd  him  !  And  now  she  held  out  her  hand,  which 
he,  on  his  knees,  touched  with  reverential  lips.  It 
was  a  shapely,  beautiful  hand,  even  to  the  last  of  the 
queen's  days  ;  and  a  shapely,  beautiful  thing  it  was 
to  remain  in  Hal's  mental  vision  to  the  last  of  his. 
In  a  kind  of  dream  he  stepped  back,  bowing,  to  the 
alley's  end.  When  he  raised  his  eyes,  the  queen  had 
turned,  and  was  speeding  toward  the  other  end  of 
the  alley.  A  March  wind  was  following  her,  between 
the  high  hedgerows,  disturbing  two  or  three  tiny 
twigs  that  had  lain  in  the  frozen  path.22 

At  that  moment  Hal  counted  his  life  a  small  thing 


88  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

save  where  it  might  serve  her ;  while  she,  who  had 
read  him  through  in  five  minutes,  was  thanking  her 
stars  for  the  miraculous  timely  advent  of  an  agent 
so  peculiarly  suited  to  so  peculiar  a  service,  —  a 
youth  of  some  worldly  experience,  yet  with  all  those 
chivalrous  illusions  which  make  him  the  greedier  of  a 
task  as  it  is  the  more  dangerous,  the  more  zealous  in 
it  as  it  offers  the  less  material  reward.  The  romantic 
sophistries  that  youth  cherishes  may  be  turned  to 
great  use  by  those  who  know  how  to  employ  them. 
Indeed,  may  not  the  virtue  of  loyalty  and  blind  devo 
tion  have  been  an  invention  of  ingenious  rulers,  for 
their  own  convenience  ?  May  not  that  of  woman- 
worship  be  an  invention  of  subtly  clever  women 
themselves,  when  women  were  wisely  content  with 
being  worshipped,  and  were  not  ambitious  of  being 
elbowed  and  pushed  about  in  the  world's  business  ; 
when  they  were  satisfied  to  be  the  divinities,  not 
the  competitors,  of  men  ?  Elizabeth  knew  that  this 
player's  head,  heart,  and  hand  were  now  all  hers  for 
the  service  engaged ;  and  that  by  entrusting  him 
with  a  large  amount  in  gold,  in  advance,  she  but 
increased  his  sense  of  obligation  to  perform  her 
errand  without  failing  in  a  single  point. 

As  he  passed  Charing  Cross  and  proceeded  east 
ward  through  the  Strand,  Hal  became  aware  of  the 
pains  caused  by  his  sleeping  out-doors  in  March 
weather,  and  of  the  headache  from  last  night's 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  89 

wine.  In  his  interview  with  the  queen,  he  had 
been  unconscious  of  these.  But  he  foresaw  sufficient 
bodily  activity  to  rid  himself  of  them,  with  the  aid  of 
a  copious  warming  draught  and  of  a  breakfast.  He 
obtained  the  warming  draught  at  the  first  tavern 
within  Temple  Bar,  which  was  none  other  than  the 
Devil.  A  drawer  recognized  him,  despite  the  'pren 
tice's  coat  and  cap,  —  no  one  who  knew  Master  Mar- 
ryott  could  be  much  surprised  at  his  having  got  into 
any  possible  strange  attire  in  some  nocturnal  prank, 
—  and  notified  the  landlord,  who  thereupon  restored 
to  Hal  the  rapier  taken  away  the  previous  night. 
From  the  Devil  tavern,  Hal  went  to  three  or  four 
shops  farther  in  Fleet  Street,  and  when  he  emerged 
from  the  last  of  these  he  wore  a  dull  green  cloth 
cloak,  brown-lined,  over  his  brown  velvet  doublet ;  a 
featherless  brown  hat  of  ample  brim  on  his  head, 
and  high  riding-boots  to  cover  the  nether  part  of  his 
brown  silk  trunk-hose. 

He  had  already  looked  his  errand  in  the  face,  and 
made  some  plan  for  dealing  with  it.  As  he  would  be 
no  match  for  a  band  of  highway  robbers,  should  he 
fall  in  with  such  between  London  and  Welwyn, 
he  must  have  at  least  one  stout  attendant.  Fortu 
nately,  Paul's  Walk,  the  place  in  which  to  obtain 
either  man  or  woman  for  any  service  or  purpose 
whatever,  lay  in  his  way  to  his  lodging,  where  he 
must  go  before  leaving  London.  He  hastened 


90  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

through  Ludgate,  with  never  a  glance  at  the  pris 
oners  whining  through  the  iron  grates  their  appeals 
for  charity ;  and  into  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  strode 
through  the  southern  entrance  of  the  mighty  cathe 
dral,  making  at  once  for  the  middle  aisle. 

It  was  the  fashionable  hour  for  the  Paul's  walkers, 
—  about  noon,  —  and  the  hubbub  of  a  vast  crowd 
went  up  to  the  lofty  arches  overhead.  The  great 
minster  walk,  with  its  column  on  which  advertise 
ments  were  hung,  its  column  around  which  serving- 
men  stood  waiting  to  be  hired,  its  other  particular 
spots  given  over  by  custom  to  particular  purposes, 
was  to  London  at  midday  what  the  interior  of  the 
Exchange  was  by  candle-light,  —  a  veritable  place  of 
lounging,  gossiping,  promenading,  trading,  begging, 
pimping,  pocket-picking,  purse-cutting,  everything. 
Hal  threaded  a  swift  way  through  the  moving,  chat 
tering,  multi-colored  crowd,  with  an  alert  eye  for 
the  manner  of  man  he  wanted.  Suddenly  he  felt  a 
pull  at  his  elbow ;  and  turned  instantly  to  behold 
a  dismal  attempt  at  gaiety  on  the  large-boned  red 
face  of  Captain  Bottle.  Beneath  his  forced  grin,  old 
Kit  was  in  sadly  sorry  countenance,  which  made  his 
attire  look  more  poor  and  ragged  than  usual. 

"What,  old  heart!"  cried  Kit.  "Thou'rt  alive, 
eh  ?  Bones  of  Mary,  I  thought  thee  swallowed  up 
by  some  black  night-walking  dragon  in  Cow  Lane 
this  morning  ! " 


QUEEN  AND    WOMAN.  91 

"  We  were  together  last  night,  I  think,"  said  Hal, 
not  with  positive  certainty. 

"  Together,  i'  faith,  till  by  my  cursing  and  hard 
breathing  I  killed  in  mine  ears  the  sound  of  thy 
steps,  so  I  could  not  follow  thee.  Ah,  Hal,  there 
was  the  foul  fiend's  hand  in  the  separating  of  us  ! 
For,  being  alone,  and  sitting  down  to  rest  me  in  the 
street,  without  Newgate,  what  should  happen  but  I 
should  fall  asleep,  and  my  purse  be  cut  ere  I  waked  ? 
Old  Kit  hath  not  e'en  a  piece  of  metal  left,  to  mimic 
the  sound  of  coin  withal  !  "  Old  Kit's  look  was  so 
blue  at  this  that  Hal  knew  he  was  truly  penniless, 
though  whether  the  loss  of  his  money  had  been  as 
he  related  it,  was  a  question  for  which  Hal  had  no 
answer.  The  captain's  eyes  were  already  inclining 
toward  that  part  of  Hal's  costume  where  his  money 
was  commonly  bestowed. 

"  This  evil  town  is  plainly  too  much  for  thy  rusti 
cal  innocence,  Kit,"  said  Hal.  "  You  need  a  country 
change.  Come  with  me  for  a  few  days.  Don't  stare. 
I  have  private  business,  and  require  a  man  like  thee. 
There's  meat,  drink,  and  beds  in  it,  while  it  lasts  ; 
some  fighting  maybe,  and  perchance  a  residue  of 
money  when  costs  are  paid.  If  there  be,  we  shall 
divide  equally.  Wilt  follow  me  ?  " 

"  To  the  other  side  of  the  round  world,  boy  !  And 
though  old  Kit  be  something  of  a  liar  and  guzzler, 
and  a  little  of  a  cheater  and  boaster,  thou'lt  find  him 


92  A    GENTLEMAN  FLAYER. 

as  faithful  as  a  dog,  and  as  companionable  a  rascal  as 
ever  lived  ! " 

"  Then  take  this  money,  and  buy  me  two  horses  in 
Smithfield,  all  equipped  ;  and  meet  me  with  them  at 
two  o'clock,  in  St.  John's  Street,  close  without  the 
bar.  But  first  get  thyself  dinner,  and  a  warm  cloak 
to  thy  back.  Haste,  old  dog  o'  war !  There  will  be 
swift  going  for  us,  maybe,  ere  many  suns  set ! " 

The  two  left  St.  Paul's  together  by  the  north  door, 
Bottle  going  on  northward  toward  the  Newgate,23  Hal 
turning  eastward  toward  St.  Helen's,  where  he  would 
refresh  himself  with  a  bath  and  food,  and  tell  Mr. 
Shakespeare  of  news  given  him  by  a  court  scrivener 
in  drunken  confidence ;  of  an  imperative  obligation 
to  go  and  warn  a  friend  in  danger ;  of  money  won  in 
dicing ;  of  a  willingness  to  resign  his  parts  to  Gil 
Crowe,  and  of  his  intention  to  rejoin  the  players  at 
the  first  opportunity,  wherever  they  might  be. 

As  he  turned  out  Bishopsgate  Street,  he  thought 
how  clear  his  way  lay  before  him,  and  smiled  with 
benignant  superiority  to  his  simple  task.  And  then 
suddenly,  causing  his  smile  to  fade  a  little,  came 
back  to  him  the  words  of  the  queen,  "  Allow  for  the 
unexpected,  young  sir,  which  usually  befalleth  !  " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    UNEXPECTED. 

"  The  affair  cries  haste, 
And  speed  must  answer  it."  —  Othello. 

AT  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  —  it  was  Tuesday, 
the  third  day  of  March,  —  Master  Marryott  and  Capt. 
Christopher  Bottle  rode  northward  from  Smithfield 
bars,  in  somewhat  different  aspect  and  mood  from 
those  in  which  they  had  gone  through  their  adven 
ture  in  the  same  neighborhood  the  previous  night. 
They  were  well  mounted ;  for  Kit  Bottle  was  not  the 
man  to  be  gulled  by  the  jinglers  of  the  Smithfield 
horse-market,  and  knew,  too  well  for  his  own  good 
reputation,  how  to  detect  every  trick  by  which  the 
jockeys  palmed  off  their  jades  on  buyers  who  judged 
only  by  appearances. 

They  were  fitly  armed,  too  ;  for  Hal,  before  re 
joining  the  captain,  had  procured  pistols  as  reinforce 
ments  to  his  rapier  and  dagger,  and  Kit  had  so  far 
exceeded  instructions  as  to  do  likewise.  The  captain 
as  yet  knew  not  what  Hal's  mission  was,  and  he  was 
too  true  a  soldier  to  exhibit  any  curiosity,  if  he  felt 

93 


94  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

any.  But  there  was  always  a  possibility  of  use  for 
weapons,  in  travelling  in  those  days ;  even  on  the 
much-frequented  road  from  London  to  St.  Albans 
("  as  common  as  the  way  between  St.  Albans  and 
London,"  said  Poins,  of  Doll  Tearsheet),  in  which 
thoroughfare,  until  he  should  turn  out  beyond  Barnet, 
Hal's  course  lay.  It  was  a  highway  that,  not  far  out 
of  London,  became  like  all  other  roads  of  the  time 
narrow  and  rutty,  often  a  mere  ditch  below  the  level 
of  the  fields,  woods,  or  commons,  at  either  side ; 
rarely  flanked,  as  in  later  times,  by  hedges,  walls,  or 
.fences  of  any  kind ;  passing  by  fewer  houses,  and 
through  smaller  villages,  than  it  is  now  easy  to 
imagine  its  doing. 

On  this,  as  on  every  English  road,  most  passenger 
travel  was  by  horseback  or  afoot,  although  the  great, 
had  their  coaches,  crude  and  slow-moving.  Most 
transportation. of  goods  was  by  pack-horse,  the  car 
riers  going  in  numerous  company  for  safety  ;  though 
huge,  lumbering,  covered  stage-wagons  had  already 
appeared  on  certain  chief  highways,  with  a  record  of 
something  like  two  miles  an  hour.  The  royal  post  for 
the  bearing  of  letters  was  in  a  primitive  and  uncer 
tain  state.  Travelling  by  post  was  unknown,  in  the 
later  sense  of  the  term  :  such  as  it  was,  it  was  a 
luxury  of  the  great,  who  had  obvious  means  of 
arranging  for  relays  of  horses  ;  and  of  state  mes 
sengers,  who  might  press  horses  for  the  queen's 


THE    UNEXPECTED.  95 

service.  When  ordinary  men  were  in  haste,  and 
needed  fresh  horses,  they  might  buy  them,  or  trade 
for  them,  or  hire  them  from  carriers,  or  from  stable- 
keepers  where  such  existed.  But  the  two  animals 
obtained  by  Bottle  in  Smithfield,  though  neither  as 
shapely  nor  as  small  as  Spanish  jennets,  were  quite 
sufficient  for  the  immediate  purpose,  —  the  bearing 
of  their  riders,  without  stop,  to  Welwyn. 

Islington  and  Highgate  were  passed  without  inci 
dent,  and  Hal,  while  soothed  in  his  anxiety  to  perform 
his  mission  without  a  hitch,  began  to  think  again  that 
the  business  was  too  easy  to  be  interesting.  As  a 
young  gentleman  of  twenty-two  who  had  read  "The 
Faerie  Queen  "  for  the  romance  and  not  for  the  alle 
gory,  he  would  have  liked  some  opportunity  to  play 
the  fighting  knight  in  service  of  his  queen.  On 
Finchley  Common  he  looked  well  about,  half  in 
dread,  half  in  hope  ;  whereupon  Captain  Bottle,  as 
taking  up  a  subject  apropos,  began  to  discourse  upon 
highway  robbers.  From  considering  the  possibilities 
of  a  present  encounter  with  them,  he  fell  to  discussing 
their  profession  in  a  business  light. 

"  An  there  must  be  vile  laws  to  ruin  gentlemen 
withal,  and  hard  peace  to  take  the  bread  out  of  true 
soldiers'  mouths,  beshrew  me  but  bold  robbing  on 
the  highway  is  choicer  business  than  a  parson's, 
or  a  lawyer's,  or  a  lackey's  in  some  great  house,  or 
even  coney-catching  in  the  taverns  !  When  I  was 


96  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

put  to  it  to  get  my  beef  and  clary  one  way  or 
another,  I  stayed  in  London,  thinking  to  keep  up  my 
purse  by  teaching  fence  ;  but  'tis  an  overcrowded 
vocation,  and  the  rogues  that  can  chatter  the  most 
Italian  take  all  the  cream.  So  old  Kit  must  needs 
betake  himself  to  a  gentlemanly  kind  of  gull-catch 
ing,  never  using  the  false  dice  till  the  true  went 
against  him,  look  you  ;  nor  bullying  a  winner  out  of 
the  stakes  when  they  could  be  had  peaceably ;  and 
always  working  alone,  disdaining  to  fellow  with 
rascally  gangs.  But  often  I  have  sighed  that  I  did 
not  as  Rumney  did,  —  he  that  was  mine  ancient  in 
the  campaigns  in  Spain  and  Ireland.  When  the 
nation  waxed  womanish,  and  would  have  no  more 
of  war,  Rumney,  for  love  of  the  country,  took  to 
the  highways,  and  I  have  heard  he  hath  thrived 
well  about  Sherwood  forest  and  toward  Yorkshire. 
'Twas  my  choice  of  a  town  life  hindered  me  being 
his  captain  on  the  road  as  I  had  been  in  the  wars. 
I  hear  he  calleth  himself  captain  now  !  Though  he 
puts  his  head  oftener  into  the  noose  than  I,  and 
runs  more  risk  of  sword  and  pistol,  his  work  is  the 
worthier  of  a  soldier  and  gentleman  for  that.  Yet 
I  do  not  call  Rumney  gentleman,  neither !  A  mar 
vellous  scurvy  rogue  !  But  no  coward.  Would  that 
thy  business  might  take  us  so  far  as  we  should  fall 
in  with  the  rascal!  I  should  well  like  to.  drink  a 
gallon  of  sack  with  the  rascally  cur,  in  memory  of 


THE    UNEXPECTED.  97 

old  times,  or  to  stab  him  in  the  paunch  for  a  trick 
he  did  me  about  a  woman  in  the  Low  Countries !  " 

Finchley  Common  was  crossed  without  threat  of 
danger,  the  only  rogues  met  being  of  the  swindling, 
begging,  feigning,  pilfering  order,  all  promptly  recog 
nized  and  classified  by  the  experienced  captain.  Nor 
did  Whetston  or  Barnet  or  Hatfield,  or  the  interven 
ing  country,  yield  any  event,  save  that  a  clock  struck 
six,  and  the  day  —  gray  enough  at  best  —  was  on 
the  wane  when  they  passed  through  Hatfield.  They 
had  made  but  five  miles  an  hour,  the  road,  though 
frozen,  being  uneven  and  difficult,  and  Hal  assuming 
that  the  pursuivant,  ignorant  of  a  plan  to  forewarn 
Sir  Valentine,  would  not  greatly  hasten.  He  relied 
on  the  hour's  start  he  had  taken  out  of  London,  and 
he  saved  his  horses  to  meet  any  demand  for  speed 
that  might  suddenly  arise.  At  the  worst,  if  the 
officer  and  his  men  came  up  behind  him,  he  could 
increase  his  pace  and  outride  them  to  Welwyn. 
And  thus  it  was  that  he  let  no  northbound  riders 
pass  him,  and  that  when  such  riders,  of  whatever 
aspect,  appeared  in  the  distant  rear,  he  spurred 
forward  sufficiently  to  leave  them  out  of  sight. 

On  the  hill,  two  or  three  miles  beyond  Hatfield, 
he  stopped  and  looked  back  over  the  lower  country, 
but  could  make  out  no  group  of  horsemen  in  the 
gathering  darkness.  His  destination  was  now  near 
at  hand,  and  he  was  still  unsettled  between  opposite 


98  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

feelings,  —  satisfaction  that  his  errand  seemed  cer 
tain  of  accomplishment,  regret  that  there  seemed 
no  prospect  of  narrow  work  by  which  he  might  a 
little  distinguish  himself  in  his  own  eyes.  The  last 
few  miles  he  rode  in  silence,  Bottle  having  ceased 
prattling  and  become  meditative  under  the  influence 
of  nightfall. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  they  rode  across  the 
brook  into  close  view  of  Welwyn  church  at  the  left 
of  the  road,  and  a  few  minutes  later  when  they 
drew  up  before  the  wall  in  front  of  Fleetwood  house, 
—  of  which  Hal  knew  the  location,  through  visits  in 
former  years, — and  began  to  pound  on  the  barred 
gate  with  their  weapons,  and  to  call  "  Ho,  within  !  " 

The  mansion  beyond  the  wall  was  a  timbered  one, 
its  gables  backed  by  trees.  It  had  no  park,  and  its 
wall  enclosed  also  a  small  orchard  at  the  rear,  and 
a  smaller  courtyard  at  the  front.  At  one  side  of 
the  gate  was  a  porter's  lodge,  but  this  was  at 
present  vacant,  or  surely  the  knocking  on  the  wooden 
gate  would  have  brought  forth  its  occupant.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  house  was  deserted,  and  Hal  had 
a  sudden  inward  sense  of  unexpected  obstacle,  per 
haps  insuperable,  in  his  way.  His  heart  beat  a  little 
more  rapidly,  until  Kit,  having  ridden  to  where  he 
could  see  the  side  of  the  house,  reported  a  light  in 
the  side  window  of  a  rear  chamber.  Hal  thereupon 
increased  his  hallooing,  with  some  thought  of  what 


THE    UNEXPECTED.  99 

might  occur  if  the  pursuivants  should  come  up  ere 
he  got  admission. 

At  length  there  appeared  a  moving  nebula  of 
light  amidst  the  darkness  over  the  yard ;  it  ap 
proached  the  gate ;  steps  were  heard  on  the  walk 
within ;  finally  a  little  wicket  was  opened  in  the 
gate,  and  a  long,  bearded,  sour  face  was  visible  in 
the  light  of  a  lanthorn  held  up  by  its  owner. 

"  Who  is  it  disturbeth  the  night  in  this  manner  ? " 
asked  a  nasal  voice,  in  a  tone  of  complaint  and 
reproof. 

"  'Tis  I,  Master  Underbill,"  spoke  Hal,  from  his 
horse,  "  Master  Harry  Marryott,  Sir  Valentine's 
friend.  I  must  see  Sir  Valentine  without  a  moment's 
delay,"  and  he  started  to  dismount. 

"  I  know  not  if  thou  canst  see  Sir  Valentine 
without  delay,  or  at  all  whatsoever,"  replied  the  man 
of  dismal  countenance.  His  face  had  the  crow's 
feet  and  the  imprinted  frown  of  his  fifty  years,  and 
there  was  some  gray  on  his  bare  head. 

"  Not  see  him  !  "  blurted  out  Hal.  "  What  the 
devil  —  open  me  the  gate  this  instant  or  I'll  teach 
thee  a  lesson  !  Dost  hear,  Anthony  ?  " 

"  Yield  not  to  thy  wrath  nor  call  upon  the  foul 
fiend,  Master  Marryott,"  said  Anthony,  severely. 
"  I  shall  go  decently  and  in  order,  and  learn  if  thou 
mayst  be  admitted."  And  he  leisurely  closed  the 
wicket  to  return  to  the  house. 


IOO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

HcJ  could  scarce  contain  himself  for  anger.  Being 
now  afoot  he  called  after  the  man,  and  hammered 
on  the  gate,  but  with  no  effect  of  recalling  or 
hastening  him. 

"A  snivelling  Puritan,  or  I'm  a  counterfeit  sol 
dier  !  "  observed  Kit  Bottle,  in  a  tone  of  contempt 
and  detestation.24 

"Ay,"  said  Hal,  "and  all  the  worse  whiner  be 
cause,  out  of  inherited  ties,  he  serveth  a  Catholic 
master.  The  old  groaner,  —  that  he  should  put 
me  to  this  delay  when  Sir  Valentine's  life  is  at 
stake!" 

This  was  Hal's  first  intimation  to  Kit  of  the  real 
nature  of  his  business.  The  captain  received  it 
without  comment,  merely  asking  if  he  should  dis 
mount. 

"No,"  said  Hal,  tying  his  own  horse  to  the  gate ; 
"but  when  I  am  admitted,  ride  you  back  to  the 
village,  and  listen  for  the  sound  of  hoofs  from  the 
direction  of  London  ;  if  you  hear  such,  come  swiftly 
back,  hallooing  at  the  top  of  thy  voice,  and  get  off 
thy  horse,  and  hold  him  ready  for  another  to  mount 
in  thy  stead.  A  hundred  curses  on  that  Tony 
Underhill !  He  hath  been  Sir  Valentine's  steward 
so  long,  he  dareth  any  impertinence.  And  yet  he 
never  stayed  me  at  the  gate  before  !  And  his  grave 
look  when  he  said  he  knew  not  if  I  might  see  Sir 
Valentine !  'Twas  a  more  solemn  face  than  even  he 


THE    UNEXPECTED.  IOI 

is  wont  to  wear.  Holy  Mary !  can  it  be  that  they 
are  here  already,  —  that  they  have  come  before 
me  ? " 

"  An  it  be  men  in  quest  of  Sir  Valentine,  you 
mean,"  said  Kit,  who  was  of  quick  divination,  "  where 
be  their  horses  ?  They  would  scarce  stable  them, 
and  make  a  visit.  Nor  would  all  be  so  quiet  and 
dark." 

"And  yet  he  looked  as  something  were  amiss," 
replied  Hal,  but  partly  reassured. 

The  faint  mist  of  light  appeared  again,  the  delib 
erate  steps  were  heard,  and  this  time  the  gate  was 
unbarred  and  slowly  drawn  a  little  space  open.  In 
the  lanthorn's  light  was  seen  the  spare,  tall  figure 
that  went  with  the  long,  gloomy  face. 

"  I  will  conduct  thee  to  Sir  Valentine,"  said  An 
thony.  Hal  stepped  forward  with  an  exclamation 
of  relief  and  pleasure,  and  Kit  Bottle  instantly 
started  his  horse  back  toward  the  village. 

Hal  followed  the  Puritan  steward  through  a 
porched  doorway,  across  a  hall,  up  a  staircase  that 
ascended  athwart  the  rear,  and  thence  along  a 
corridor,  to  the  last  door  on  the  side  toward  the 
back  of  the  house.  Anthony  softly  opened  this 
door. 

Hal  entered  a  chamber  lighted  by  two  candles  on 
a  table,  and  containing  in  one  corner  a  large  high- 
posted  bed.  On  the  table,  among  other  things,  lay 


IO2  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

an  ivory  crucifix.  A  plainly  dressed  gentleman  sat 
on  a  chair  between  the  table  and  the  bed.  To  this 
gentleman,  without  casting  a  look  at  his  face,  Hal 
bowed  respectfully,  and  began,  "  I  thank  God,  Sir 
Valentine  — 

"  Nay,  sir,"  answered  the  gentleman,  quietly,  as 
if  to  prevent  some  mistake  ;  and  Hal,  looking  up, 
perceived  that  this  was  not  Sir  Valentine,  but  a  paie, 
watchful-looking  man,  with  fiery  eyes  ;  while  a  voice, 
strangely  weakened,  came  from  the  bed  : 

"  Thou'rt  welcome,  Harry." 

"  What !  "  cried  Hal,  striding  to  the  bed.  "  Sir 
Valentine,  goest  thou  to  bed  so  early  ? " 

"Ay,"  replied  Sir  Valentine,  motionless  on  his 
back,  "and  have  been  abed  these  two  days,  with 
promise  from  my  good  physician  here  of  getting  up 
some  six  days  hence  or  so." 

"Thou'lt  not  move  for  another  week,  at  least,  Sir 
Valentine,"  said  the  physician,  the  gentleman  whom 
Hal  first  addressed. 

"  'Tis  a  sword  wound  got  in  a  quarrel,  Harry," 
explained  Sir  Valentine,  feebly,  and  paused,  out  of 
breath,  looking  for  a  reply. 

But  Hal  stood  startled  and  speechless.  Not  move 
for  a  week,  and  the  state  officer  likely  to  arrive  in  an 
hour !  "And  in  every  possible  manner  aid  and 
hasten  his  departure  from  the  country,"  her  Majesty 
had  said;  and  Hal  had  taken  her  money,  and  by 


THE    UNEXPECTED.  1 03 

his  promise,  by  her  trust  in  him,  by  every  con 
sideration  that  went  to  the  making  of  a  gentleman, 
a  man  of  honor,  or  an  honest  servant,  stood  bound 
to  carry  out  her  wish. 

The  errand  was  not  to  be  so  simple,  after  all. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    PLAYER    PROVES    HIMSELF    A    GENTLEMAN. 

"  Warrants  and  pursuivants !  Away !  warrants  and  pursuivants  ! "  —  The  Wise 
Woman  of  Hogsdon. 

SIR  VALENTINE  FLEETWOOD  was  a  thin  man,  with 
regular  features  and  sunken  cheeks,  his  usually  sal 
low  face  now  flushed  with  fever.  His  full  round 
beard  was  gray,  but  there  were  yet  streaks  of  black 
in  his  flowing  hair. 

"  Sir  Valentine,"  Hal  began,  suppressing  his  ex 
citement,  "there  is  private  news  I  must  make 
known  to  you  instantly."  And  he  cast  a  look  at 
the  doctor,  who  frowned,  and  at  Anthony,  who  re 
mained  motionless  near  the  door,  with  his  lanthorn 
still  in  hand,  as  if  expecting  that  he  should  soon 
have  to  escort  Hal  out  again. 

"  Sir  Valentine  is  not  in  a  condition  to  hear  — 
broke  in  the  doctor,  in  a  voice  of  no  loudness,  but  of 
much  latent  authority. 

"  But  this  is  of  the  gravest  import  —  "  interrupted 
Hal,  and  was  himself  interrupted  by  Sir  Valentine, 
who  had  gathered  breath  for  speech. 

104 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  1 05 

"  Nay,  Harry,  it  may  wait.  I  am  in  no  mind  for 
business." 

"  But  it  requireth  immediate  action,"  said  Hal, 
who  would  have  told  the  news  itself,  but  that  he 
desired  first  the  absence  of  the  doctor  and  the 
steward. 

"Then  'twill  serve  nothing  to  be  told,"  said  Sir 
Valentine,  lapsing  into  his  former  weakness,  and 
with  a  slight  shade  of  annoyance  upon  his  face. 
"  As  thou  see'st,  boy,  I  am  in  no  state  for  action. 
A  plague  upon  the  leg,  I  can't  stir  it  half  an  inch." 

"  But  —   "  cried  Harry. 

The  physician  rose,  and  Anthony,  with  an  outraged 
look,  took  a  deprecatory  step  toward  Harry. 

"  No  more,  young  sir  !  "  quoth  the  physician,  im 
peratively.  "  Sir  Valentine's  life  — 

"  But  that  is  what  I  have  come  to  speak  of,"  re 
plied  Hal,  in  some  dudgeon.  "  Zounds,  sir,  do  you 
know  what  you  hinder  ?  There  are  concerns  you 
wot  not  of  !  " 

"Tut,  Master  Marryott,"  said  Sir  Valentine.  "As 
for  my  life,  'tis  best  in  the  doctor's  hands  ;  and  for 
concerns,  I  have  none  now  but  my  recovery.  Not  for 
myself,  the  blessed  Mary  knoweth  !  But  for  others' 
sakes,  in  another  land.  Oh,  to  think  I  should  be 
drawn  into  an  unwilling  quarrel,  and  get  this  plagued 
hurt !  And  mine  opponent  —  hast  heard  yet  how 
Mr.  Hazlehurst  fares,  Anthony  ?  " 


IO6  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  No,  your  honor,"  said  the  Puritan  ;  but  he  let 
his  glance  fall  to  the  floor  as  he  spoke,  and  seemed 
to  suffer  an  inward  groan  as  of  self-reproach.  Sir 
Valentine  could  not  see  him  for  the  bed-curtains. 

"  Tis  a  lesson  to  shun  disputes,  boy,"  said  Sir 
Valentine,  to  Hal.  "  Here  were  my  old  neighbor's 
son,  young  Mr.  Hazlehurst,  and  myself,  bare  ac 
quaintances,  'tis  true,  but  wishing  each  other  no 
harm.  And  two  days  ago,  meeting  where  the  roads 
crossed,  and  a  foolish  question  of  right  of  way  occur 
ring,  he  must  sputter  out  hot  words  at  me,  and  I 
must  chide  him  as  becometh  an  elder  man  ;  and  ere 
I  think  of  consequences,  his  sword  is  out,  and  I  have 
much  to  do  to  defend  myself  !  And  the  end  is,  each 
is  carried  off  by  servants,  with  blood  flowing ;  my 
wound  in  the  groin,  his  somewhere  in  the  breast. 
I  would  fain  know  how  he  lies  toward  recovery  ! 
You  should  have  taken  pains  to  inquire,  Anthony." 

"  Sir  Valentine,"  said  the  physician,  "  thou  art 
talking  too  much.  Master  Marryott,  you  see  how 
things  stand.  If  you  bear  Sir  Valentine  friendship, 
you  have  no  choice  but  to  go  away,  sith  you  have 
paid  your  respects.  He  would  have  it  that  you  be 
admitted.  Pray,  abuse  not  his  courtesy." 

"  But,  sir,  that  which  I  must  tell  him  concerns  — 

"  I'll  hear  naught  that  concerns  myself,"  said  Sir 
Valentine,  with  the  childish  stubbornness  of  illness. 
"  Tell  me  of  thine  own  self,  Harry.  'Tis  years 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  IO/ 

since  I  saw  thee  last,  and  in  that  time  I've  had  no 
word  of  thee.  Didst  go  to  London,  and  stay  there  ? 
My  letter,  it  seems,  availed  thee  nothing.  How 
livest  thou  ?  What  is  thy  place  in  the  world  ?  " 

Hal  decided  to  throw  the  physician  and  Anthony 
off  guard  by  coming  at  his  news  indirectly.  So  he 
answered  Sir  Valentine  : 

"  I  am  a  stage  player." 

Sir  Valentine  opened  eyes  and  mouth  in  amaze 
ment  ;  he  gasped  and  stared. 

"  A  stage  player  !  "  he  echoed,  horrified.  "  Thy 
father's  son  a  stage  player !  A  Marryott  a  stage 
player  !  Sir,  sir,  you  have  fallen  low  !  Blessed 
Mary,  what  are  the  times  ?  A  gentleman  turn 
stage  player  !  " 

Old  Anthony  had  drawn  back  from  Hal,  vastly 
scandalized,  his  eyes  raised  heavenward  as  if  for 
divine  protection  from  contamination  ;  and  the  phy 
sician  gazed,  in  a  kind  of  passionless  curiosity. 

"A  stage  player,"  said  Hal,  firmly,  having  taken 
his  resolution,  "  may  prove  himself  still  a  gentleman. 
He  may  have  a  gentleman's  sense  of  old  friendship 
shown,  and  a  gentleman's  honesty  to  repay  it,  as  I 
have  when  I  come  to  save  thee  from  the  privy 
council's  men  riding  hither  to  arrest  thee  for  high 
treason  !  And  a  gentleman's  authority,  as  I  have 
when  I  bid  this  doctor  and  this  Anthony  to  aid  thy 
escape,  and  betray  or  hinder  it  not,  on  pain  of  deeper 


108  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

wounds  than  thine !  "     And  Hal,  having  drawn  his 
sword,  stood  with  his  back  to  the  doorway. 

Sir  Valentine  himself  was  the  first  to  speak  ;  he 
did  so  with  quiet  gravity  : 

"  Art  quite  sure  of  this,  Harry  ?  " 

"  Quite,  Sir  Valentine.  We  stage  players  consort 
with  possessors  of  state  secrets,  now  and  then.  The 
warrant  for  thy  apprehension  was  signed  this  day. 
A  council's  pursuivant  was  to  leave  London  at  three 
o'clock,  with  men  to  assure  thy  seizure.  I,  bearing 
in  mind  my  family's  debt  to  thine,  and  mine  own  to 
thee,  started  at  two,  to  give  thee  warning.  More 
than  that,  I  swear  to  save  thee.  This  arrest,  look 
you,  means  thy  death  ;  from  what  I  heard,  I  per 
ceive  thy  doom  is  prearranged  ;  thy  trial  is  to  be 
a  pretence." 

"  I  can  believe  that !  "  said  Sir  Valentine,  with  a 
grim  smile. 

"  'Tis  not  my  fault  that  these  two  have  been  let 
into  the  secret,"  said  Hal,  indicating  the  physician 
and  Anthony. 

"  And  it  shall  not  be  to  Sir  Valentine's  disadvan 
tage,  sir,  speaking  for  myself,"  said  the  physician. 

"  His  honor  knows  whether  I  may  be  trusted," 
said  Anthony,  swelling  with  haughty  consciousness 
of  his  fidelity,  as  if  to  outdo  the  physician,  toward 
whom  his  looks  were  always  oblique  and  of  a  covert 
antipathy. 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  ICX) 

"  I  know  ye  are  my  friends,"  said  Sir  Valentine. 
"  I  could  have  spoken  for  you.  But  what  is  to  be 
done  ?  'Tis  true  I  cannot  move.  Think  it  no  whimsy 
of  the  doctor's,  Harry.  Blessed  Mary,  send  heaven 
to  my  help !  Think  not,  Harry,  'tis  for  myself  I 
moan.  Thou  knowest  not  how  my  matters  stand 
abroad.  There  are  those  awaiting  me  in  France, 
dependent  on  me  — 

"And  to  France  we  must  send  you  safe,  Sir 
Valentine!"  said  Harry.  "You  could  not  be  sup 
ported  on  horseback,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  physician  looked  amazed  at  the  very  sugges 
tion,  and  Sir  Valentine  smiled  gloomily  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  Or  in  a  coach,  an  one  were  to  be  had  ? "  Hal 
went  on. 

"  'Twould  be  the  death  of  him  in  two  miles,"  said 
the  physician.  "  Moreover,  where  is  a  coach  to  be 
got  in  time  ?  " 

"  Is  there  no  hiding-place  near,  to  which  you  might 
be  carried  ? "  asked  Hal,  of  Sir  Valentine,  knowing 
how  most  Catholic  houses  were  provided  in  those 
days. 

Sir  Valentine  exchanged  looks  with  the  physician 
and  Anthony,  then  glanced  toward  the  wall  of  the 
chamber,  and  answered  : 

"There  is  a  space  'twixt  yon  panelling  and  the 
outer  woodwork  of  the  house.  It  hath  air  through 


110  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

hidden  openings  to  the  cracked  plaster  without ;  and 
is  close  to  the  chimney,  for  warmth.  In  a  hasty 
search  it  would  be  passed  over,  • —  there  is  good  proof 
of  that.  But  this  pursuivant,  not  finding  me,  would 
sound  every  foot  of  wall  in  the  house.  He  would, 
eventually,  detect  the  hollowness  of  the  panelling 
there,  and  the  looseness  of  the  boards  that  hide 
the  entrance.  Or,  if  he  did  not  that,  he  and  his  men 
would  rouse  the  county,  and  occupy  the  house  in 
expectation  of  my  secret  return  ;  they  would  learn 
of  my  quarrel  and  wound,  and  would  know  I  must 
be  hid  somewhere  near.  While  they  remained  in 
the  house,  searching  the  neighborhood  with  sheriff's 
and  magistrate's  men,  keeping  watch  on  every  one, 
how  should  I  be  supplied  and  cared  for  in  that  hole  ? 
It  would  soon  become,  not  my  hiding-place,  but  my 
grave,  —  for  which  'tis  truly  of  the  right  dimen 
sions  !  " 

"But  if,  not  finding  you  in  the  first  search,  they 
should  suppose  you  gone  elsewhere  ?  "  said  Hal,  for 
sheer  need  of  offering  some  hope,  however  wild. 

"  Why,  they  would  still  make  the  house  the  centre 
of  their  search,  as  I  said." 

"  But  if  they  were  made  to  believe  you  had  fled 
afar  ?  " 

"They  would  soon  learn  of  my  wound.  It  hath 
been  bruited  about  the  neighborhood.  They  would 
know  it  made  far  flight  impossible." 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  Ill 

"  But  can  they  learn  how  bad  thy  wound  is  ? 
Might  it  not  be  a  harmless  scratch  ? " 

"  It  might,  for  all  the  neighborhood  knoweth  of 
it,"  put  in  Anthony;  and  the  physician  nodded. 

"  Then,  if  they  had  reason  to  think  you  far  fled  ? " 
pursued  Hal. 

".Why,"  replied  Sir  Valentime,  "some  of  them 
would  go  to  make  far  hunt ;  others  would  wait  for 
my  possible  return,  and  to  search  the  house  for 
papers.  And  the  constables  and  officers  of  the 
shire  would  be  put  on  the  watch  for  me." 

"  Need  the  search  for  papers  lead  to  the  discovery 
of  yon  hiding-place  ?  " 

"  No.  The  searchers  would  find  papers  in  my 
study  to  reward  a  search,  though  none  to  harm  any 
but  myself.  The  other  gentlemen  concerned  are 
beyond  earthly  harm." 

"  But,"  quoth  Hal,  the  vaguest  outlines  of  a  plan 
beginning  to  take  shape  before  him,  "  were  the  pur 
suivant,  on  arriving  at  your  gate,  to  be  checked  by 
certain  news  that  you  had  fled  in  a  particular  direc 
tion,  would  he  not  hasten  off  forthwith  on  your 
track,  with  all  his  men  ?  Would  he  take  time  for 
present  search  or  occupancy  of  your  house,  or 
demand  upon  constable's  or  sheriff's  men  ?  And  if 
your  track  were  kept  ever  in  view  before  him,  would 
he  not  continue  upon  it  to  the  end  ?  And  suppose 
some  of  his  men  were  left  posted  in  thy  house. 


112  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

These  would  be  few,  three  or  four  at  most,  seeing 
that  the  main  force  were  close  upon  thy  trail.  These 
three  or  four  would  not  look  for  thy  return  ;  they 
would  look  for  thy  taking  by  their  comrades  first. 
They  would  keep  no  vigil,  and  being  without  their 
leader,  —  who  would  head  the  pursuing  party,  — 
they  would  rest  content  with  small  search  for  papers ; 
they  would  rather  be  industrious  in  searching  thy 
wine-cellar  and  pantry.  Thus  you  could  be  covertly 
attended  from  this  chamber,  by  nurse  or  doctor, 
acquainted  with  the  house.  And  when  you  were 
able  to  move,  these  men,  being  small  in  force,  might 
be  overpowered ;  or,  being  careless,  they  might  be 
eluded.  And  thus  you  might  pass  out  of  the  house 
by  night,  and  into  a  coach  got  ready  by  the  doctor, 
and  so  to  the  sea ;  and  the  men  in  thy  house  none 
the  wiser,  and  those  upon  thy  false  track  still  chasing 
farther  away." 

"  Harry,  Harry,"  said  Sir  Valentine,  in  a  kindly 
but  hopeless  tone,  "thou  speak'st  dreams,  boy  !  " 

"  Ne'ertheless,"  said  Hal,  "is't  not  as  I  say,  an  the 
false  chase  were  once  contrived  ?  " 

"Why,"  put  in  the  physician,  "that  is  true 
enough.  Send  me  away  the  pursuivant  and  most  of 
his  men,  and  let  those  who  stay  think  Sir  Valentine 
thus  pursued,  and  I'll  warrant  the  looking  to  Sir 
Valentine's  wants,  and  his  removal  in  nine  days  or 
so.  Nine  days  he  will  need,  not  an  hour  less  ;  and 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  113 

yet  another  day,  to  make  sure ;  that  is  ten.  But 
should  the  pursuers  on  the  false  chase  discover 
their  mistake,  and  return  ere  ten  days  be  gone, 
all  were  lost.  E'en  suppose  they  could  be  tricked 
by  some  misguidance  at  the  gate,  which  is  not 
conceivable,  they'd  not  go  long  on  their  vain 
hunt  without  tangible  track  to  follow.  Why,  Mas 
ter  Marryott,  they'd  come  speeding  back  in  two 
hours  !  " 

"  But  if  a  man  rode  ahead,  and  left  tangible  track, 
by  being  seen  and  noted  in  the  taverns  and  high 
ways  ?  He  need  but  keep  up  the  chase,  by  not 
being  caught ;  the  pursuivant  may  be  trusted  to 
pick  up  all  traces  left  of  his  travels.  These  mes 
sengers  of  the  council  are  skilled  in  tracing  men, 
when  there  are  men  to  leave  traces." 

"  What  wild  prating  is  this  ? "  cried  Sir  Valen 
tine,  somewhat  impatiently.  "  I  know  thou  mean'st 
kindly,  Harry,  but  thy  plan  is  made  of  moonshine. 
Let  a  man,  or  a  hundred  men,  ride  forth  and  leave 
traces,  what  shall  make  these  officers  think  the  man 
is  I  ? " 

"  They  shall  see  him  leave  thy  gate  in  flight  when 
they  come  up.  And,  as  for  his  leading  them  a 
chase,  he  will  be  on  one  of  thy  horses,  an  there  be 
time  to  make  one  ready,  otherwise  on  mine,  —  in 
either  case,  on  a  fresher  horse  than  theirs.  So  he 
shall  outride  them  at  the  first  dash,  and  then,  one 


114  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

way  and  another,  lead  them  farther  and  farther,  day 
after  day." 

"But,  man,  man  !  Wilder  and  wilder  !  "  exclaimed 
Sir  Valentine,  as  if  he  thought  himself  trifled  with. 
"  Know  you  not  their  leader  will  be  one  that  is  well 
acquainted  with  my  face  ?  " 

"So  much  the  better,"  cried  Hal;  "for  then  he 
will  take  oath  it  is  you  he  sees  departing ! " 

"  I  he  sees  departing  ? "  echoed  Sir  Valentine,  and 
began  to  look  at  Hal  apprehensively,  as  if  in  suspi 
cion  of  madness,  a  suspicion  in  which  the  physician 
and  Anthony  seemed  to  join.  "  I  departing,  when  I 
am  in  yon  narrow  hole  between  timbers  ?  I  depart 
ing,  when  I  am  hurt  beyond  power  of  motion,  as 
their  leader  will  doubtless  learn  at  the  village  ale 
house,  on  inquiring  if  I  be  at  home." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Hal,  "he  shall  think  it  is  you, 
and  the  more  so  if  he  have  heard  of  your  wound. 
For,  in  the  lanthorn's  light,  as  he  comes  in  seeing  dis 
tance,  he  shall  perceive  that  you  sit  your  horse  as  a 
lame  man  doth.  And  that  thy  head  is  stiffly  perched, 
thy  shoulders  drawn  back,  in  the  manner  peculiar  to 
them.  And  that  thy  left  elbow  is  thrust  out  as  is 
its  wont.  And  that  thy  hat,  as  usual,  shades  thy 
brow  thus.  But  more  than  all  else,  sir,  that  thy  face 
is  of  little  breadth,  thy  beard  gray'  and  round,  as 
they  have  been  these  many  years." 

And  Hal,  having  realized  in  attitude  each  previous 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    GENTLEMAN.  115 

point  in  his  description,  took  from  his  pocket  the 
false  beard  that  had  lain  there  since  the  first  per 
formance  of  "  Hamlet,"  and  tying  it  on  his  face, 
which  he  had  thinned  by- drawing  in  his  cheeks,  stood 
transformed  into  the  living  semblance  of  Sir  Valen 
tine  Fleetwood. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AND    THE    GENTLEMAN    PROVES    HIMSELF    A    PLAYER. 

"  Let  the  world  think  me  a  bad  counterfeit,  if  I  cannot  give  him  the  slip  at  an 
instant."  —  Every  Man  in  His  Humor. 

THERE  was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  chamber. 
Then  — 

"Play-acting!"  muttered  Anthony,  with  a  dark 
frown,  followed  by  an  upturning  of  the  eyes. 

"Thou'lt  pass,  my  son!"  said  the  physician,  his 
eyes  alight  with  approval  and  new-found  hope. 
"  Truly,  I  think  he  will,  Sir  Valentine,  —  with  a 
touch  of  the  scissors  to  shape  his  beard  more 
like !  "  And  he  took  up  from  the  table  a  pair  of 
scissors,  doubtless  used  in  cutting  bandages  for  the 
wounded  man,  and  striding  toward  Master  Mar- 
ryott,  applied  them  with  careful  dexterity.  "  Behold," 
said  he,  when  he  had  finished.  "  Thou'lt  surely  fool 
them  in  the  lanthorn's  light  and  the  haste.  By  close 
work  thou  mightst  truly  lead  them  off  in  the  night, 
but  in  daylight  the  falseness  of  thy  beard  may  easily 
be  seen,  for  the  strings  'tis  tied  withal." 

"  But  the  officers  shall  not  see  my  face  after  the 
116 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  1 1/ 

starting.  I'll  not  stay  near  enough  to  them  for 
that.  Tis  by  word  of  innkeepers  and  townspeople 
and  country-folk,  of  my  passage  through  the  country, 
that  I  shall  be  traced.  And  mark :  save  to  officers 
that  keep  note  of  Catholics,  Sir  Valentine  is  scarce 
known  ten  miles  hence,  so  much  hath  he  lived 
abroad.  And  I'm  not  known  out  of  London  and 
Oxfordshire.  So  who's  to  set  the  pursuers  right?" 

"But  what  then?"  said  the  physician.  "Those 
same  innkeepers  and  such  can  but  report  the  passage 
of  a  man  with  a  false  beard,  at  best.  More  like,  they 
will  cause  thy  detention  as  a  questionable  person,  till 
the  council's  men  come  up  to  thee.  Either  way,  the 
pursuivant  will  see  the  trick,  and  speed  hotfoot  back 
to  this  house." 

"Why,  look  you,"  said  Hal,  "early  in  the  morning 
I  will  hastily  enter  some  inn,  my  face  muffled  as  for 
cold.  There,  in  a  private  chamber,  I  will  take  off 
the  beard,  and  come  forth  as  if  I  had  but  shaved. 
And  so  report  will  remain  of  me,  that  I  came  bearded 
and  departed  shaven  ;  and  the  men  in  pursuit  will 
take  this  very  shaving  as  a  means  of  disguise. 
They'll  be  the  more  convinced  I'm  the  man." 

"  Ay,  but  there  you  risk  their  losing  trace  of  you ; 
for  the  absence  of  the  beard  will  show  your  youth, 
and  make  you  at  odds  with  their  description  of  you." 

"  Why,  the  loss  of  a  beard  will  sometimes  give  an 
elder  man  a  look  of  youth.  And  the  same  compan- 


I  1 8  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

ion  shall  ride  with  me,  —  he  that  now  keeps  watch 
without.  By  the  description  of  him  as  my  attendant, 
'twill  be  known  I  am  the  gentleman  that  rode 
from  Fleetwood  house.  And  to  make  my  trace  the 
more  certain,  let  a  second  accompany  me,  —  one  of 
Sir  Valentine's  servants  that  live  here  constantly  and 
are  better  known  than  their  master  is.  And  he  shall 
also  guide  me  on  the  roads  hereabouts,  in  my  first 
dash  from  the  gates ;  for,  look  you,  there  will  be 
fleet  riding  for  an  hour  or  two !  " 

"Thou  nearest,  Sir  Valentine,"  said  the  physician, 
turning  to  the  wounded  gentleman. 

"Ay,"  replied  the  knight,  "and  being  weak  of 
breath,  have  waited  for  a  breach  to  put  my  word  in. 
'Tis  all  madness,  this  ye  talk  of !  E'en  were't  possi 
ble,  I  should  let  no  man  risk  life  for  me  as  this  young 
gentleman  offereth.  Why,  lad,  they'd  catch  thee,  of 
a  surety  — 

"  I  make  question  of  that,  Sir  Valentine,"  quoth 
Hal. 

"Some  time  or  other,  they  would,"  said  the 
knight.  "  And  thou  knowest  the  penalty  of  aiding 
the  escape  of  one  accused  of  treason !  The  act  itself 
is  treason." 

"  And  what  if  I  have  already  incurred  penalties  as 
grievous,  on  mine  own  account  ?  And  what  if  I  have 
some  running  away  to  do,  for  myself  ?  May  not  one 
flight  suffice  for  both  ?  While  I  lead  these  men  on 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  119 

a  false  chase  from  thee,  I  but  put  distance  'twixt 
myself  and  danger,"  said  Hal,  with  less  regard 
for  truth  than  for  leading  Sir  Valentine  into  his 
plans. 

"What,  Harry?"  cried  Sir  Valentine.  "Is  it 
true  ?  But  still,  thou'rt  yet  in  good  way  to  make 
thine  own  escape.  To  wait  for  these  officers,  and 
to  keep  them  at  thy  tail,  will  doubly  imperil  thee. 
Thou  shalt  not  multiply  thine  own  danger  for  me,  — 
by  Mary,  thou  shalt  not !  " 

"  But  I  mean  not  to  be  caught,  Sir  Valentine. 
Have  I  no  skill,  no  hardihood  ?  Shall  youth  serve 
nothing,  and  strong  arms,  and  hard  legs  ?  I  will 
elude  them,  I  swear !  But  first  I  will  keep  them  on 
my  tail  time  enough  for  thy  removal.  Ten  days,  the 
doctor  said.  An  I  lead  off  these  fellows  a  five  days' 
ride  from  Fleetwood  house,  straight  north  toward 
Scotland,  and  then  drop  them,  'twill  take  five  days 
for  them  to  ride  back.  And  there,  of  but  five 
days'  work  on  my  part,  come  the  ten  days'  delay 
thou  needest  ! " 

"  But  thou  canst  not  do  it,  Harry,"  persisted  Sir 
Valentine,  while  the  physician  silently  paced  the 
floor  in  thought,  and  the  Puritan  looked  on  with  out 
ward  indifference.  "  Why,  bethink  you  !  To  escape 
thy  pursuers,  and  yet  not  to  let  them  lose  trace  of 
thee ;  to  outride  them  ever,  yet  never  ride  too  far 
away  from  them ;  to  elude  them,  yet  not  to  drop 


1 20  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

them ;  this  for  five  days,  and  then  to  break  off 
the  track  and  leave  them  baffled,  at  the  last !  Tis 
impossible !  " 

"  'Tis  a  glorious  kind  of  sport,  Sir  Valentine !  " 
cried  Hal,  his  eyes  aglow.  "  'Tis  a  game  worth 
playing  !  Nay,  'tis  a  stage  play,  wherein  I  undertake 
to  act  the  part  of  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  in  flight 
and  disguise !  Ods-body,  I  shall  prove  I  am  a 
player  !  Thou  shalt  not  refuse,  Sir  Valentine  !  Do 
as  thou  wilt,  I  am  for  the  gate,  and  when  the  officers 
come  up,  the  devil  seize  me  an  I  do  not  lead  them  off 
again  !  " 

"  Sir  Valentine  doth  not  refuse,"  cried  the  physi 
cian,  who  had  manifestly  made  up  his  mind.  "  Thou 
need'st  fresh  horses  ?  Anthony  shall  fetch  them  to 
the  gate.  And  one  of  Sir  Valentine's  known  ser 
vants,  to  show  the  road  and  leave  the  better  trace  ? 
Anthony  shall  go.  Continual  residence  here,  in  his 
master's  absence,  hath  made  him  as  well  known  for 
Sir  Valentine's  man  as  Sir  Valentine  is  little  known 
for  Anthony's  master.  On  your  way  to  the  stable, 
Anthony,  send  Mary  hither,  and  John.  They  shall 
help  me  house  Sir  Valentine  yonder,  with  store  of 
food  and  drink.  Straight  north  toward  Scotland, 
sayest  thou,  Master  Marry ott  ?  The  right  road  for 
thy  wild-goose  chase.  We  shall  do  our  part,  my  son. 
Only  gain  us  the  ten  days." 

And  the  physician  strode  to  the  side  of  the  cham- 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  121 

her,  put  aside  some  faded  hangings,  and  began  to 
loosen  a  section  of  the  panelling. 

Anthony,  frowning  haughtily  at  the  physician's 
giving  him  orders,  looked  inquiringly  at  Sir  Valen 
tine. 

"  But,  my  good  father,"  began  the  knight,  address 
ing  the  physician.  Hal  shot  a  glance  of  discovery 
at  the  latter.  My  father!  This  "doctor"  was  a 
doctor  of  other  than  the  body,  then  !  Hal  had 
wondered  to  see  a  physician  of  such  mien  and 
manner  in  this  country  place,  and  had  thought  he 
might  have  been  summoned  from  London.  But  now 
all  was  clear.  He  was  a  popish  priest,  disguised  in 
ordinary  habit,  to  escape  the  severity  of  the  Eliza 
bethan  statutes  ;  though,  doubtless,  he  knew  enough 
of  surgery  and  medicine  for  the  treatment  of  Sir 
Valentine's  wound. 

"There  is  no  time  for  talk,  my  son,"  said  this 
doctor,  interrupting  Sir  Valentine.  "  Remember 
those  in  France.  And  let  Anthony  do  as  I  said." 

"  Thou  hast  heard,  Anthony,"  said  the  knight, 
compliantly,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  Lead  out 
the  horses  — 

"Three,  Sir  Valentine,"  put  in  Hal,  to  whom  time 
was  beginning  to  appear  extremely  precious,  "as 
Anthony  is  to  go  with  us.  I  shall  leave  my  two 
for  thy  use." 

"And  take  money,  Anthony,"  went  on  Sir  Valen- 


122  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

tine,  while  the  priest  continued  to  open  the  way  to 
the  secret  closet. 

"I  have  money,  sir,"  said  Hal. 

"  But  Anthony  shall  take  some,  —  the  half  of  what 
is  in  the  chest,  Anthony.  The  rest  will  serve  me  to 
France,  an  this  plan  indeed  be  not  madness." 

"  You  have  sure  ways  of  going  to  France,  I  doubt 
not,"  said  Hal  to  Sir  Valentine. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  knight,  with  a  smiling  side  glance 
at  the  busy  priest,  "  we  have  made  that  voyage  when 
ports  were  e'en  closer  watched  than  now.  And  hear 
this,  Anthony,  before  you  go,  —  Anthony  will  show 
thee,  Harry,  how  to  make  for  France  on  thine  own 
account,  if  indeed  thou  dost  ride  free  of  these  mes 
sengers.  And  he  will  tell  thee  where  in  Paris  I  am 
to  be  found.  When  we  meet  there,  —  the  saints 
intercede  that  we  may !  —  I  shall  have  a  way  of 
thanking  thee,  perchance.  Go,  Anthony  !  " 

The  servant  left  the  room,  with  a  glumness  belong 
ing  rather  to  a  general  habit  of  surly  disapproval 
than  to  any  particular  objection  to  the  task  before 
him. 

"This  house  and  land,"  Sir  Valentine  went  on, 
"will  be  confiscate,  of  course,  and  myself  outlawed. 
But  thou  see'st  how  this  estate  hath  fallen,  Harry. 
I  keep  here  but  two  servants  besides  Anthony, 
where  once  I  kept  twenty.  But  in  all  these  years 
I  have  built  up  some  means  of  living,  across  the 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  123 

narrow  seas ;  and  them  shalt  not  want  in  France, 
Harry  !  " 

"  Think  not  of  me,  but  of  thyself,  Sir  Valentine. 
I'd  best  leave  thee  now,  and  hasten  Anthony  with 
the  horses.  I  can  find  him  by  his  lanthorn's  light. 
We  have  lost  much  time." 

But  Sir  Valentine  would  embrace  him  ere  he  left, 
as  well  as  a  man  so  wounded  might ;  and  the  knight, 
touched  with  gratitude,  wept  as  the  youth  bent  over 
him.  Hal  then  turned  to  take  swift  leave  of  the 
priest,  who  had  now  caused  a  dark  hole  to  gape  in 
the  wooden  panelling.  The  latter,  at  this,  took  up 
a  cloak  from  a  chair,  detached  Hal's  own  shorter 
cloak,  and  put  the  other  over  the  youth's  shoulders, 
saying  : 

"  'Tis  Sir  Valentine's  own  cloak,  and  more  befit 
ting  the  part  thou  hast  to  play,  Master  Actor ! 
Take  my  blessing,  and  the  saints  watch  over 
thee  ! " 

With  no  more  ado,  Hal  hastened  from  the  room, 
and  down  to  the  hall,  where  Anthony,  bearing  the 
lanthorn,  was  ordering  the  two  other  servants  to 
their  master's  chamber.  Hal  held  his  cloak  over 
his  face  till  they  were  gone  up  the  stairs ;  then  he 
bade  Anthony  show  him  quickly  to  the  stables, 
adding  : 

"  As  for  the  money,  if  you  must  obey  orders,  you 
may  get  it  while  I  am  saddling  the  horses." 


124  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

The  steward  gave  a  grunt,  and  led  the  way  out  to 
the  stables,  where  he  indicated  the  three  best  horses. 
He  then  returned  to  the  house,  leaving  the  lanthorn  ; 
but  presently  reappeared,  in  time  to  help  Hal  with 
the  horses,  and  to  receive  at  the  same  time  the 
player's  explicit  directions  for  the  conduct  of  matters 
on  the  arrival  of  the  officers. 

The  two  men  then  led  the  horses  to  the  front 
gate,  where  Anthony  tied  a  pair  of  them,  that  he 
might  take  Hal's  London  horse  to  the  stable.  Mas 
ter  Marryott  mounted  and  rode  toward  the  village 
to  acquaint  Captain  Bottle  with  what  was  to  be 
done.  On  perceiving  Kit's  stalwart  figure,  black 
against  the  dim  night,  Hal  called  out  to  him  to 
follow  back  to  the  mansion.  While  the  two  were 
covering  the  distance  thereto,  Hal  briefly  put  the 
soldier  in  possession  of  what  it  was  needful  for  the 
latter  to  know.  Anthony  had  now  returned  from 
the  stable,  and  the  lanthorn  revealed  Hal's  trans 
formation,  which  the  captain  viewed  with  critical 
approval  while  transferring  himself  from  his  tired 
horse  to  one  of  the  fresh  ones. 

"  And  the  Puritan  rides  with  us  ?  "  queried  Bottle, 
while  Anthony  was  gone  with  the  second  horse  to 
the  stable.  "  Sad  company,  sad  company  !  An  the 
dull  rogue  sermon  me  upon  the  sins  of  the  flesh,  I'll 
knock  in  his  teeth  to  shut  up  his  throat  withal ! 
Well,  well !  This  mixing  in  matters  of  state  maketh 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  12$ 

strange  bedfellows.  I  mind  me  once  —  lend  ear, 
Hal !  Hoofs  yonder,  or  I'm  an  owl  else  !  " 

Hal  listened.  Yes,  horses  were  crossing  the 
wooden  bridge  of  the  brook  on  the  Londonward 
side  of  the  village. 

"  Should  these  be  the  men  ? "  whispered  Hal  in 
a  low  voice.  "  They  come  slowly." 

"  Who  else  should  be  on  the  road  at  this  hour  ? " 
replied  Kit.  "They  know  not  any  reason  for  haste." 

"  A  red  murrain  on  that  Puritan,  then ! "  said 
Hal.  "  What  holds  him  so  long  at  the  stable  ?  All 
is  lost,  without  his  lanthorn.  I'll  ride  in  and  fetch 
him." 

"  Nay,  they  must  use  time  enough  in  coming 
hither.  Hark !  They  have  halted  in  the  village. 
Mayhap  they  must  needs  ask  the  way  to  Fleetwood 
house." 

"'Tis  well,  then.  They  will  learn  of  Sir  Valen 
tine's  hurt." 

There  was  then  a  very  trying  time  of  silence  and 
waiting,  during  which  Hal's  heart  beat  somewhat  as 
it  had  beaten  in  the  tiring-room  before  the  perform 
ance  of  "  Hamlet." 

"  Hear  them  again,"  he  said  at  last,  through  his 
teeth.  "  And  that  rascal  Puritan  - 

"  Save  thy  breath  !     Here  he  comes." 

Anthony  indeed  now  appeared  with  the  light, 
crossing  the  yard  with  longer  strides  than  he  had 


126  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

previously  taken  ;  he,  too,  had  heard  the  approaching 
horses. 

"  Into  thy  saddle,  dog  !  "  muttered  Hal.  "  And 
a  plague  on  thee  for  thy  slowness  !  Now  do  as  I 
bid,  or  I'll  give  thee  a  bellyful  of  steel !  " 

The  steward  having  got  on  horseback,  Hal  led  the 
way  back  into  the  yard.  The  three  then  wheeled 
about,  and  stood  just  within  the  now  wide-open  gate, 
Anthony  at  Hal's  right  and  bearing  the  lanthorn  in 
his  left  hand,  Kit  at  Hal's  left.  Hal  measured  with 
his  ears  the  constantly  decreasing  distance  of  the 
hoof-beats  on  the  hard  road,  as  they  advanced  at 
a  steady  walking  pace.  Through  the  silence  came 
the  sound  of  a  far-off  clock  striking  eight,  and  then 
of  the  approaching  horsemen  talking  to  one  another 
in  low  tones. 

At  last  Hal  said,  "  Now !  "  and  rode  forth  into  the 
road,  which  was  here  of  exceptional  width.  The 
three,  riding  abreast,  turned  toward  London,  as  if 
intending  to  ride  southward.  Had  they  continued, 
they  would  soon  have  met  the  approaching  horsemen 
face  to  face.  But  suddenly  Hal,  as  if  he  now  for 
the  first  time  discovered  the  presence  of  newcomers, 
stopped  short,  as  did  also  his  two  attendants.  An 
thony,  in  pretence  of  enabling  the  make-believe  Sir 
Valentine  to  perceive  who  the  horsemen  were,  held 
the  lanthorn  up,  a  little  to  the  right  and  rear  of  Hal's 
body,  so  that  it  revealed  his  attitude  and  left  his  face 


PROVES  HIMSELF  A    PLAYER.  12? 

in  shadow.  Leaning  forward,  as  in  pain,  yet  with 
head  stiffly  set,  shoulders  forced  back,  hat  low  on 
brow,  left  elbow  thrust  out,  and  beard  well  outlined 
against  the  light,  Hal  peered  anxiously  into  the 
gloom.  Out  of  that  gloom  there  came,  after  a  star 
tled  exclamation  and  a  hush  of  low  voices,  the  clear 
greeting : 

"  Give  you  good  even,  Sir  Valentine  !  " 

Hal  uttered  a  swift  order  to  his  men.  Anthony 
instantly  wheeled  around,  to  take  the  lead,  and  rode 
northward.  Hal  did  likewise,  and  was  immediately 
followed  by  Captain  Bottle.  As  soon  as  Hal  made 
sure  that  Kit  had  turned,  he  called  to  the  steward 
ahead  to  make  speed ;  and  a  moment  later  the  three 
were  galloping  over  the  frozen  road  at  the  devil's 
gait. 

"  Halt !  In  the  queen's  name  !  "  rang  out  of  the 
darkness  behind,  in  the  voice  that  had  been  heard 
before. 

"  Go  to  hell,  Roger  Barnet !  "  shouted  back  Kit 
Bottle,  to  Hal's  astonishment. 

"  You  know  him  ? "  queried  Hal,  as  the  horses 
flew  onward. 

"  Yes,  and  a  taker  of  traitors  he  is,  sure  enough  !  " 
growled  Kit  through  the  night.  "  A  very  hell-hound, 
at  a  man's  heels  !  Hear  him  cursing,  back  yonder, 
for  his  pistol  will  not  go  off !  They  have  whipped 
up  ;  the  whole  pack  is  on  the  scent !  " 


128  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Good  !  "  cried  Hal.  "  Sir  Valentine  and  the 
priest  will  have  plain  sailing.  The  chase  is  begun, 
old  Kit !  Five  days  of  this,  and  the  hounds  must 
neither  lose  nor  catch  us !  Ods-body,  the  Puri 
tan's  lanthorn  is  out !  I  hope  he  knows  the  road  in 
the  dark ! " 


CHAPTER    VII. 

MISTRESS    ANNE    HAZLEHURST. 

"  I  have  got  the  start ; 
But  ere  the  goal,  'twill  ask  both  brain  and  art." 

—  The  English  Traveller. 

MANIFESTLY  the  Puritan  knew  the  road,  and 
manifestly  it  was  known  to  the  horses,  also ;  for 
without  decrease  of  swiftness  the  few  black  objects 
at  the  roadside  —  indistinct  blurs  against  the  less 
black  stretches  of  night-sky  —  seemed  to  race  back 
toward  the  men  in  pursuit.  Soon  the  riders  had 
a  wood  at  their  right,  a  park  at  their  left.  Then 
there  was  perforce  a  slowing  up,  for  a  hill  had  to 
be  ascended.  But  by  this  time  the  enemy  was  left 
almost  out  of  ear-shot.  Hal,  knowing  his  party  to 
be  the  more  freshly  mounted,  took  heed  to  make 
no  further  gain  at  present.  While  in  the  vicinity  of 
Fleetwood  house,  the  chase  must  be  so  close  that 
the  officers  would  not  for  a  moment  drop  it  to  con 
sider  some  other  course  of  action.  As  long  as  they 
were  at  his  heels,  and  saw  imminent  possibility  of 
taking  him,  it  was  not  probable  that  they  would 
separate  for  the  purpose  of  searching  Sir  Valentine's 
house,  or  of  causing  proclamation  to  be  sent  broad- 

129 


I3O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

cast  by  which  port  wardens  might  be  put  on  guard, 
or  of  taking  time  to  seek  the  aid  of  shire  officers, 
justices,  and  constables.  It  was  not  for  himself  that 
Hal  had  most  to  fear  a  hue  and  cry  of  the  country, 
for  by  keeping  ahead  of  the  officers  by  whom  that 
hue  and  cry  must  be  evoked,  he  should  keep  ahead 
of  the  hue  and  cry  itself;  but  such  a  raising  of  the 
country  would  direct  to  Fleetwood  house  an  atten 
tion  which  might  hinder  Sir  Valentine's  eventual 
removal.  Once  the  pursuers  were  drawn  into  an 
other  county,  Hal  might  gain  over  them  sufficient 
time  for  his  own  rest  and  refreshment,  and  for  his 
necessary  changes  of  horse.  When  committed  to 
the  hunt  by  several  hours'  hard  riding,  the  officers, 
for  their  own  reputation,  would  be  less  likely  to 
abandon  it  for  a  return  to  Fleetwood  house ;  and 
though,  as  the  hunt  should  develop  into  a  long 
and  toilsome  business,  they  would  surely  take  time 
to  enlist  local  authorities  in  it,  those  authorities 
would  not  be  of  Hertfordshire,  and  their  eyes  would 
be  turned  toward  Hal  himself,  not  toward  Fleetwood 
house. 

"  Tell  me  more  of  this  Barnet,"  said  Hal  to  Cap 
tain  Bottle,  as  the  three  fugitives  rode  up  a  second 
hill.  The  sound  of  the  pursuers,  galloping  across 
the  level  stretch  between  the  two  heights,  came  with 
faint  distinctness  to  the  ears  of  the  pursued,  in  inter 
vals  of  the  noise  made  by  their  own  horses,  —  noise 


MISTRESS  ANNE  HAZLEHURST.  131 

of  breathing,  snorting,  treading  the  rough  earth,  and 
clashing  against  the  loose  stones  that  lay  in  the  ditch- 
like  road. 

"Why,  he  is  a  chaser  of  men  by  choice,"  answered 
Kit.  "  I  knew  him  years  agone,  in  Sir  Francis 
Walsingham's  day.  Beshrew  me  if  he  is  ever  happy 
without  a  warrant  in  his  pouch.  I'm  a  bottle-ale 
rascal  an  he  hath  not  carried  the  signature  of  the 
secretary  of  state  over  more  miles  than  any  other 
man !  A  silent,  unsocial  rogue !  When  I  knew 
him  first,  he  was  one  of  Walsingham's  men ;  and 
so  was  I,  i'  faith  !  We  chased  down  some  of  the 
Babington  conspirators  together,  —  that  was  fifteen 
years  ago.  For,  look  you,  this  raising  of  the  country 
against  a  traitor  is  well  enough,  when  he  is  a  gentle 
man  of  note,  that  openly  gathers  his  followers  and 
fortifies  his  house  and  has  not  to  be  hunted  out  like 
a  hare.  But  when  traitors  are  subtle  fellows  that 
flee  and  disguise  themselves,  these  loutish  con 
stables'  knaves,  that  watch  for  hunted  men  in  front 
of  alehouses,  are  sad  servants  of  the  state,  God  wot ! 
—  and  I  have  seen  with  these  eyes  a  letter  to  that 
effect,  from  Lord  Burleigh  to  Sir  Francis,  when  this 
same  Barnet  and  I  were  a-hunting  the  Babington 
rascals."  25 

"Then  this  Barnet  is  like  to  keep  on  our  track?" 
interrogated  Hal. 

"  Yea,  that   he  is !     'Tis  meat   and  drink  -to  the 


132  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

rogue,  this  man-hunting !  He  takes  a  pride  in  it, 
and  used  to  boast  he  had  never  yet  lost  his  game. 
And  never  did  he,  to  my  knowledge,  but  once,  and 
that  was  my  doing,  which  was  the  cause  of  our  fall 
ing  out.  When  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  died,  we 
remained  in  service  as  pursuivants  —  to  attend  the 
orders  of  the  council  and  the  high  commission. 
That  was  a  fat  trade !  Great  takings,  rare  purse- 
filling  !  Old  Kit  had  no  need  of  playing  coney- 
catcher  in  those  days  !  We  would  be  sent  to  bring 
people  up  to  London,  to  prison,  and  'twas  our  right 
to  charge  them  what  we  pleased  for  service  and 
accommodation ;  and  when  they  could  not  pay,  it 
went  hard  with  them.  Well,  Roger  Barnet  and  I 
disagreed  once  about  dividing  the  money  we  meant 
to  squeeze  out  of  a  Gloucestershire  gentleman,  that 
some  lord  his  neighbor  had  got  a  council's  order 
against,  for  having  troubled  his  lordship  with  a  law 
ful  suit  in  the  courts.  Rather  than  take  the  worse 
of  it  from  Roger  Barnet,  I  got  up  when  he  was 
asleep,  at  the  inn  we  were  staying  overnight,  and 
set  the  gentleman  free.  Roger  would  have  killed 
me  the  next  day,  had  he  been  as  good  a  swordsman 
as  he  is  a  man-hunter.  But,  as  it  was,  he  had  to  be 
content  with  my  losing  so  fat  a  service.  For  he  was 
in  favor  with  Mr.  Beal,  the  clerk  of  the  council,  and 
might  have  made  things  hard  for  me  but  that  I  took 
forthwith  to  the  wars." 


MISTRESS  ANNE   HAZLEHURST.  133 

"  God  look  to  it  he  may  not  have  chance  of  mak 
ing  things  hard  for  thee  in  this  business  ! "  said  Hal. 

"Why,  one  thing  is  sure,"  replied  Kit,  "he  will 
stick  to  our  heels  the  longer  for  my  being  of  the 
party.  'T would  warm  his  heart  to  pay  off  old 
scores.  He'll  perchance  think  'twas  I  that  got  word 
of  Sir  Valentine's  danger  and  brought  warning. 
And,  certes,  he  finds  me  aiding  an  accused  traitor, 
which  brings  me,  too,  under  the  treason  statutes. 
'Twould  be  a  sweet  morsel  to  Roger  Barnet  to 
carry  me  back  prisoner  to  London  !  An  thy  plan 
be  to  keep  Roger  on  our  track,  'tis  well  I  made  my 
self  known  by  word  of  mouth,  as  I  did.  Though, 
for  that  matter,  I  say  it  again,  Roger  is  not  the  dog 
to  quit  any  scent,  let  him  once  lay  his  nose  to  the 
earth." 

Ahead  rode  the  Puritan,  in  a  silence  as  of  sullen- 
ness,  his  figure  more  clearly  drawn  against  the  night 
as  Hal's  eyes  were  the  better  accustomed  to  the 
darkness.  Hal  now  spoke  so  that  both  Anthony 
and  Kit  might  hear,  saying  : 

"  My  men,  ye  are  to  plant  it  in  your  minds  that  I 
am  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,  none  other ;  but  ye 
will  seem  to  wish  to  hide  from  people  that  I  am  he. 
Hence  ye  will  call  me  by  some  other  name,  it  matters 
not  what ;  and  the  better  'twill  be  an  ye  blunder  in 
that  name,  and  disagree  in  it  from  time  to  time. 
The  more  then  will  it  appear  that  I,  Sir  Valentine, 


134  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

am  trying  to  pass  myself  off  as  another.  But  some 
times  seem  to  forget,  and  call  me  Sir  Valentine,  and 
then  hastily  correct  yourselves  as  if  ye  had  spoke 
incautiously." 

"  The  lie  be  on  your  own  head,  though  my  mouth 
be  forced  to  speak  it,"  replied  Anthony  Underbill, 
dismally. 

"Willingly,"  said  Hal ;  and  Kit  Bottle  put  in  : 

"  An  the  weight  be  too  heavy  on  thy  head,  Master 
Marryott,  let  old  Kit  bear  some  of  it.  Ods-body, 
some  folk  be  overf earful  of  damnation  !  " 

Anthony  muttered  something  about  scoffers,  and 
rode  on  without  further  speech.  So  they  traversed 
a  hamlet,  then  a  plain,  then  more  hills  and  another 
sleeping  village.  Varying  their  pace  as  the  exigen 
cies  of  the  road  required,  they  were  imitated  in  this 
—  as  they  could  hear  —  by  Barnet's  party.  The 
narrowness  of  the  highway,  which  hereabouts  ran 
for  a  good  distance  between  lines  of  wooden  fence, 
compelled  them  to  ride  in  single  file.  They  had 
been  on  the  road  an  hour,  perhaps,  and  made  about 
five  miles,  so  that  they  were  probably  a  mile  from 
Stevenage,  when  Anthony  called  back  to  Hal  : 

"There  be  riders  in  front,  sir,  coming  toward  us." 

"  So  my  ears  tell  me,"  said  Hal,  after  a  moment's 
listening.  "  Who  the  devil  can  be  abroad  at  this 
hour?  I  hope  we  suffer  no  delay  in  passing  them." 

Barnet's   men  were  now   a  half   mile  behind,   evi- 


MIS  TK  ESS  A  AWE   HAZLRHURST.  135 

dently  nursing  the  powers  of  their  horses  for  a 
timely  dash.  A  stoppage  of  any  kind  might  nip 
Hal's  fine  project  in  the  bud.  Hence  it  was  with 
anxiety  that  he  strained  his  eyes  forward.  The 
newcomers  were  approaching  at  a  fast  walk.  One 
of  them,  the  foremost,  was  carrying  a  light.  As 
they  drew  nearer,  riding  one  behind  another,  they 
took  a  side  of  the  road,  the  more  speedily  to  pass. 
But  the  leader,  as  he  came  opposite  Anthony  Under 
bill,  and  saw  the  Puritan's  face  in  the  feeble  light, 
instantly  pulled  up,  and  called  out  to  one  behind  in  a 
kind  of  surprise  : 

"  Here's  Sir  Valentine's  steward,  Anthony  Under 
bill  !  " 

"  Give  ye  good  even,  Dickon,  and  let  us  pass," 
said  Anthony,  sourly ;  for  the  other  had  quickly 
turned  his  horse  crosswise  so  as  to  block  most  of 
the  narrow  road. 

"Is  that  thy  master  I  see  yonder?"  he  asked, 
holding  his  light  toward  Hal,  who  had  promptly 
ridden  up  abreast  of  Anthony. 

"What  is  that  to  you,  fellow?"  cried  Hal. 

" 'Tis  something  to  me!"  called  out  a  voice 
behind  the  fellow, — a  voice  that  startled  Hal,  for 
it  was  a  woman's.  "  Are  you  Sir  Valentine  ?  " 

"Who  wishes  to  know?"  inquired  Hal,  putting 
some  courtesy  into  the  speech. 

"I     do  —  Anne     Hazlehurst ! "     was     the    quick 


136  A    GENTLEMAAT  PLAYER. 

answer.  And  the  light-bearer  having  made  room 
for  her,  she  rode  forward. 

Hazlehurst !  Where,  Hal  asked  himself,  had  he 
recently  heard  that  name  ? 

"  Well,  are  you  Sir  Valentine  ? "  she  demanded, 
impatiently. 

"I  do  not  deny  it,"  said  Hal. 

"Then  here's  for  you,  —  slayer  of  my  brother !" 
she  cried,  and  struck  him  full  in  the  face  with  the 
flat  of  a  sword  she  had  held  beneath  her  cloak.  In 
doing  this  she  thrust  her  hooded  head  more  into 
the  lanthorn's  light,  and  Hal  recalled  two  things  at  the 
same  instant,  —  the  name  Hazlehurst  as  that  of  the 
gentleman  with  whom  Sir  Valentine  had  fought, 
and  the  woman's  face  as  that  with  which  he,  Master 
Marryott,  had  fallen  in  love  at  the  theatre  during 
the  play  of  "  Hamlet." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

"A    DEVIL    OF    A    WOMAN." 

"  From  all  such  devils,  good  Lord,  deliver  us  !  "  —  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

"  AND  now,  my  men,  upon  him  !  "  cried  Mistress 
Hazlehurst,  backing  to  make  room  in  which  her 
followers  might  obey. 

These  followers  tried  to  push  forward ;  the  horses 
crowded  one  another,  and  there  ensued  much  hud 
dling  and  confusion.  But  the  lantern-bearer,  holding 
his  light  and  his  bridle  in  one  hand,  caught  Mr. 
Marryott's  bridle  with  the  other.  Hal  struck  this 
hand  down  with  one  of  his  pistols,  which  were  not 
prepared  for  firing.  He  then  drew  his  sword,  with  a 
gesture  that  threw  hesitation  into  the  ranks  of  his 
opposers. 

"Madam,"  he  cried,  in  no  very  gentle  tone,  "may 
I  know  what  is  your  purpose  in  this  ? " 

"  'Tis  to  prevent  your  flight,"  she  called  back, 
promptly.  "The  officers  of  justice  are  slow;  I  shall 
see  that  you  forestall  them  not." 

For  a  moment  Hal,  thinking  only  of  the  officers 
behind  him,  wondered  if  she  could  have  heard  of  the 

137 


138  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

council's  intention,  and  whether  it  was  to  the  royal 
messengers  that  she  alluded. 

"What  have  officers  of  justice  to  do  with  me?" 
he  asked. 

"To  call  you  to  account  for  the  killing  of  my 
brother !  " 

Sir  Valentine's  fight,  in  which  wounds  had  been 
given  on  both  sides,  again  recurred  to  Hal's  mind. 

"  Your  brother  is  dead,  then  ?  "   he  inquired. 

"  I  am  but  now  from  his  funeral !  "  was  her  answer. 

In  that  case,  Hal  deduced,  her  brother  must  have 
died  two  days  before,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  very 
day  of  the  fight.  The  news  must  have  come  belated 
to  the  sister,  for  she  had  been  at  the  performance  of 
"  Hamlet,"  yesterday.  And  here  was  explanation 
of  her  departure  from  the  theatre  in  the  midst  of 
the  play.  The  summons  to  her  dead  brother's  side 
had  followed  her  to  the  playhouse,  and  there  over 
taken  her.  Afterward,  Hal  found  these  inferences 
to  be  correct. 

For  a  second  or  two  of  mutual  inaction,  he  mar 
velled  at  the  strange  ways  of  circumstance  which  had 
brought  this  woman,  whom  he  had  yesterday  ad 
mired  in  the  crowded  London  playhouse,  to  confront 
him  in  such  odd  relations  on  this  lonely,  night-hidden 
road  in  Hertfordshire.  But  a  sound  that  a  turn  of 
the  wind  brought  —  the  sound  of  Roger  Barnet's 
men  riding  nearer  —  sharpened  him  to  the  necessity 


"A   DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  139 

of  immediate  action  against  this  sudden  hindrance. 
Yet  he  felt  loath  to  go  from  this  woman.  Go  he 
must,  however,  though  even  at  the  possible  cost  of 
violence  to  her  people. 

The  Puritan  retained  his  place  at  Marryott's  side. 
Kit  Bottle  was  close  behind,  and  with  horse  already 
half  turned  so  that  he  might  face  Barnet's  men 
should  they  come  up  too  soon  ;  he  had  drawn  his 
sword,  and  was  quietly  making  ready  his  pistols. 

"Madam,"  said  Hal,  decisively,  "I  did  not  kill 
your  brother.  Now,  by  your  favor,  I  will  pass,  for  I 
am  in  some  haste." 

"What!"  she  cried.  "Did  you  lie  just  now, 
when  you  said  you  were  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  ?  " 

Now,  Hal  might  tell  her  that  he  was  not  Sir 
Valentine ;  but,  doubtless,  she  would  not  believe 
him  ;  and  thus  the  situation  would  not  be  changed. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  if  she  should  believe  him,  so 
much  the  worse,  —  she  would  then  bend  her  energies 
toward  the  hindrance  of  the  real  Sir  Valentine ; 
would  ride  on  toward  Fleetwood  house,  be  met  and 
questioned  by  Roger  Barnet,  and  set  him  right,  or  at 
least  cause  him  to  send  a  party  back  to  Fleetwood 
house  to  investigate.  So  Hal's  purpose  would  be 
speedily  frustrated.  His  only  course  was  to  let  her 
think  him  really  the  man  he  was  impersonating ; 
indeed  that  course  would  make  but  another  step  in 
the  continued  deception  of  Roger  Barnet,  and  Hal 


I4O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

was  bound  to  take  such  steps  —  not  avoid  them  — 
for  the  next  five  days. 

"Mistress  Hazlehurst,"  replied  Hal,  taking  a  kind 
of  furtive  joy  in  using  her  name  upon  his  lips  for  the 
first  time,  "  I  do  not  deny  that  I  am  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood ;  but  I  did  not  kill  your  brother.  I  wish 
you  heaven's  blessing  and  a  good  night,  for  I  am 
going  on  !  "  With  that  he  started  his  horse  forward. 

"Take  him!"  she  shouted  to  her  men.  "Ye 
shall  pay  for  it  an  he  escape  !  " 

The  threat  had  effect.  The  attendants  crowded 
upon  Hal,  some  with  swords  drawn,  some  with  clubs 
upraised ;  so  that  his  horse,  after  a  few  steps,  reared 
wildly  upon  its  haunches,  and  sought  a  way  out  of 
the  press. 

"  Back,  dogs  ! "  commanded  Marryott,  striking 
right  and  left  with  sword  and  pistol.  There  were 
cries  of  pain  from  men  and  horses  ;  the  men  wielded 
their  weapons  as  best  they  could ;  but  a  way  was 
somehow  opened.  Mistress  Hazlehurst  herself  was 
forced  against  the  fence  at  the  roadside,  one  of  her 
followers  —  a  slender,  agile  youth  — •  skilfully  inter 
posing  his  horse  and  body  between  her  and  the 
crush.  She  would  have  pressed  into  the  midst  of 
the  blows  and  of  the  rearing  beasts,  had  not  this 
servant  restrained  her  horse  by  means  which  she, 
in  her  excitement,  did  not  perceive.  But  she  con 
tinued  calling  out  orders,  in  a  loud,  wrathful  voice. 


"A    DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  141 

As  Hal  opened  way,  Anthony  and  Bottle  followed 
close,  preventing  the  enemy  from  closing  in  upon  his 
rear.  The  Puritan  used  a  short  sword  with  a  busi 
ness-like  deliberation  and  care,  and  with  no  word  or 
other  vocal  sign  than  a  kind  of  solemnly  approbative 
grunt  as  he  thrust.  Bottle,  who  rode  last,  handled 
his  long  rapier  with  great  swiftness  and  potency,  in 
all  directions,  swearing  all  the  while ;  and  finally  let 
off  his  two  pistols,  one  after  the  other,  at  two  men 
who  hung  with  persistence  upon  Hal's  flanks,  while 
Hal  was  forcing  the  last  opposition  in  front.  One 
of  these  two  fell  wounded  or  dead,  the  other  was 
thrown  by  his  maddened  horse  ;  and  finally  the 
three  fugitives  were  free  of  the  mass  of  men  and 
beasts  that  had  barred  the  way.  One  of  the  horses 
was  clattering  down  the  road  ahead,  without  a  rider. 
Hal  informed  himself  by  a  single  glance  that  Anthony 
and  Kit  were  free  and  able,  and  then,  with  an  "  On 
we  go  !  "  he  spurred  after  the  riderless  horse  toward 
Steven  age. 

"  After  him,  you  knaves !  "  screamed  Mistress 
Hazlehurst,  in  a  transport  of  baffled  rage ;  but  her 
servants,  some  unhorsed,  some  with  broken  heads 
or  pierced  bodies,  one  with  a  pistol  wound  in  his 
side,  and  the  rest  endeavoring  to  get  the  horses 
under  control,  were  quite  heedless  of  her  cries. 

"  A  sad  plight  to  leave  a  lady  in  !  "  said  Hal,  who 
had  heard  her  futile  order.  He  and  his  two  men 


142  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

were  now  riding  at  a  gallop,  to  regain  lost  advantage. 
'i»A  devil  of  a  woman  !  "  quoth  Captain  Bottle,  in 
a  tone  of  mere  comment,  void  of  any  feeling  save, 
perhaps,  a  little  admiration. 

"  Why  did  she  not  know  me,  either  as  Sir  Valen 
tine,  or  as  not  being  Sir  Valentine  ?  "  asked  Hal, 
calling  ahead  to  Anthony,  who  had  resumed  his 
place  in  front. 

"  She  hath  dwelt  most  time  in  London  with  a  city 
kinswoman,"  was  the  answer,  "and  Sir  Valentine  hath 
lived  usually  in  France  since  she  was  born." 

"  'Tis  well  Master  Barnet  knew  Sir  Valentine 
better,  or  knew  him  well  enough  to  take  me  for  him 
in  my  disguise,"  said  Hal. 

"  Trust  Roger  Barnet  to  know  every  papist  in  the 
kingdom,"  called  out  Kit  Bottle,  "and  to  know  every 
one  else  that's  like  to  give  occasion  for  his  services. 
It  is  a  pride  of  his  to  know  the  English  papists  where- 
ever  they  be.  Roger  is  often  on  the  Continent,  look 
you.  He  is  the  privy  council's  longest  finger  !  " 

"  Tell  me  of  this  Mistress  Hazlehurst,"  said  Hal 
to  the  Puritan,  to  whose  side  he  now  rode  up.  "  Is't 
true  she  is  the  sister  of  the  gentleman  Sir  Valentine 
fought  ?  " 

"  His  only  sister,"  returned  Anthony.  "His  only 
close  kin.  She  is  now  heiress  to  the  Hazlehurst 
estate,  and  just  old  enough  to  be  free  of  ward 
ship." 


"A    DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  143 

"  A  strong  love  she  must  have  borne  her  brother, 
to  fly  straight  from  his  funeral  to  see  him  avenged  !  " 

"  Nay,  I  know  not  any  great  love  betwixt  'em. 
They  could  not  live  in  the  same  house,  or  in  the 
same  county,  for  their  wrangles  — being  both  of  an 
ungodly  violence.  'Twas  her  brother's  unrighteous 
proneness  to  anger  that  forced  the  brawl  on  Sir 
Valentine.  'Twas  that  heathenish  quarrelsomeness, 
some  say,  that  kept  Mr.  Hazlehurst  a  bachelor.  'Tis 
a  wonder  the  evil  spirit  of  wrath  in  him  brought  him 
not  sooner  to  his  death.  He  fought  many  duels,  — 
not  hereabouts,  where  men  were  careful  against  pro 
voking  him,  but  in  France,  where  he  lived  much. 
'Twas  there,  indeed,  that  he  and  Sir  Valentine  best 
knew  each  other." 

"  And  yet  this  sister  must  have  loved  him. 
Women  are  not  commonly  so  active  toward  pun 
ishing  a  brother's  slayer,"  insisted  Hal. 

"  Why,"  replied  Anthony,  "methinks  this  woman 
is  a  hothead  that  must  needs  do  with  her  own  hands 
what,  if  she  were  another  woman,  she  would  only 
wish  done.  'Tis  a  pride  of  family  that  moveth  her 
to  look  to  the  avenging  of  her  brother's  death.  A 
blow  at  him  she  conceiveth  to  be  a  blow  at  herself, 
the  two  being  of  same  name  and  blood.  This  sister 
and  brother  have  ever  been  more  quick,  one  to 
resent  an  affront  against  the  other  from  a  third 
person,  than  they  have  been  slow  to  affront  each 


144  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

other.  I  am  not  wont  to  speak  in  the  language  of 
the  lost,  or  to  apply  the  name  of  the  arch-enemy 
to  them  that  bear  God's  image;  but,  indeed,  as  far 
as  a  headstrong  will  and  violent  ways  are  diabolical, 
yon  profane  man  spoke  aptly  when  he  named  Mistress 
Anne  a  devil  of  a  woman  !  " 

"All's  one  for  that,"  said  Hal,  curtly.  "But, 
certes,  as  far  as  a  matchless  face  and  a  voice  of  music 
are  angelical,  I  speak  as  aptly  when  I  name  this 
Mistress  Anne  an  angel  of  a  woman  !  It  went  against 
me  to  leave  her  in  the  road  thus,  in  a  huddle  of 
bleeding  servants  and  runaway  horses." 

"  'Tis  a  huddle  that  will  block  the  way  for  Roger 
Barnet  a  while,"  put  in  Captain  Bottle. 

"  Doubtless  he  and  his  men  have  ridden  up  to  her 
by  now,"  replied  Marryott.  "  I'd  fain  see  what  is 
occurring  betwixt  them."  Then  lapsing  into  silence, 
Hal  and  his  two  attendants  rode  on,  passing  through 
slumbering  Stevenage,  and  continuing  uninterruptedly 
northward. 

Barnet's  party  had  indeed  come  up  to  Mistress 
Hazlehurst's,  and  the  scene  now  occurring  between 
them  was  one  destined  to  have  a  strange  conclusion. 

Anne's  followers,  —  raw  serving  men  without  the 
skill  or  decision  to  have  used  rightly  their  numerical 
superiority  over  the  three  fugitives,  —  all  were  more 
or  less  hurt,  except  two,  —  the  slight  one  who  had  per 
sonally  shielded  her,  and  the  lantern-bearer,  who  had 


"A    DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  145 

been  taken  out  of  the  fray  by  the  intractability  of 
his  horse.  Not  only  was  her  escort  useless  for  any 
immediate  pursuit  of  the  supposed  Sir  Valentine, 
but  the  condition  of  its  members  required  of  her,  as 
their  mistress  and  leader,  an  instant  looking  to.  The 
necessity  of  this  forbade  her  own  mad  impulse  to 
ride  unaided  after  the  man  who  had  escaped  her,  and 
whom  she  was  the  more  passionately  enraged  against 
because  of  his  victory  over  her  and  of  his  treatment 
of  her  servants.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
vexatious  than  the  situation  into  which  she  had  been 
brought ;  and  she  was  bitterly  chafing  at  her  defeat, 
while  forcing  herself  to  consider  steps  for  the  proper 
care  of  her  injured  servants,  when  Earnet's  troop 
came  clattering  up  the  road. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst's  horses,  except  the  runaway, 
had  now  been  got  under  command ;  some  of  her 
men,  merely  bruised  in  body  or  head,  stood  holding 
them  ;  others,  worse  hurt,  lay  groaning  at  the  road 
side,  whither  she  had  ordered  their  comrades  to  drag 
them.  Anne  herself  sat  her  horse  in  the  middle  of 
the  road,  the  little  fellow,  still  mounted,  at  her  left 
hand.  Such  was  the  group  that  caused  Barnet  and 
his  men  to  pull  up  their  horses  to  an  abrupt  halt. 
Peering  forward,  with  eyes  now  habituated  to  the 
darkness,  the  royal  pursuivant  swiftly  inspected  the 
figures  before  him,  perceived  that  Sir  Valentine  and 
his  two  attendants  were  not  of  them,  wondered  what 


146  A    GENTLEMAN    PLAYER. 

a  woman  was  doing  at  the  head  of  such  a  party, 
dismissed  that  question  as  none  of  his  business,  and 
called  out : 

"  Madam,  a  gentleman  hath  passed  you,  with  two 
men.  Did  he  keep  the  road  to  Stevenage,  or  turn 
out  yonder  ? " 

"  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,  mean  you  ? "  asked 
Anne,  with  sudden  eagerness. 

"  The  same.  Way  to  pass,  please  you.  And  an 
swer." 

Roger  Barnet  was  a  man  of  middle  height  ;  bodily, 
of  a  good  thickness  and  great  solidity  ;  a  man  with  a 
bold,  square  face,  a  frown,  cold  eyes,  a  short  black 
beard  ;  a  keeper  of  his  own  counsel,  a  man  of  the  few 
est  possible  words,  and  those  gruffly  spoken.  Anne, 
because  her  mind  was  working  upon  other  matter, 
took  no  offence  at  his  sharp,  discourteous,  mandatory 
style  of  addressing  her.  Without  heeding  his  demand 
for  way,  she  said  : 

"  Sir  Valentine  hath  indeed  passed  !  See  how  he 
dealt  with  my  servants  when  I  tried  to  stay  him  ! 
Are  you  magistrate's  men  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  messenger  of  the  queen,"  said  Barnet, 
deigning  an  answer  because,  on  looking  more  closely 
at  her  horses,  a  certain  idea  had  come  to  him. 

"  In  pursuit  of  Sir  Valentine  ?  "  she  asked. 

"With  a  warrant  for  his  apprehension,"  was  the 
reply. 


"A    DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  147 

"  What !  For  my  brother's  death  ?  Hath  her 
Majesty  heard  — 

"  For  high  treason ;  and  if  these  be  your  horses, 
in  the  queen's  name  — 

But  Mistress  Hazlehurst  cut  short  his  speech,  in 
turn. 

"High  treason!"  she  cried,  with  jubilation;  and 
this  thought  flashed  through  her  mind  :  that  if  taken 
for  high  treason,  her  enemy,  a  Catholic  of  long  resi 
dence  in  France,  was  a  doomed  man  ;  whereas  a 
judicial  investigation  of  his  quarrel  with  her  brother 
might  absolve  Sir  Valentine  from  guilt  or  blame. 
True,  the  state's  revenge  for  an  offence  against 
itself  would  not,  as  such,  be  her  revenge  for  an 
offence  against  her  family,  and  would  not  in  itself 
afford  her  the  triumph  she  craved  ;  but  Sir  Valentine 
was  in  a  way  to  escape  the  State's  revenge ;  she 
might  be  an  instrument  to  effect  his  capture  ;  in 
being  that,  she  would  find  her  own  revenge.  She 
could  then  truly  say  to  her  enemy,  "  But  for  me 
you  might  be  free  ;  of  my  work,  done  in  retaliation 
for  killing  my  brother,  shall  come  your  death ;  and 
so  our  blood,  as  much  as  the  crown,  is  avenged." 
All  this,  never  expressed  in  detail,  but  conceived  in 
entirety  during  the  time  of  a  breath,  was  in  her  mind 
as  she  went  on  : 

"  God's  light,  he  shall  be  caught,  then  !  He  went 
toward  Stevenage.  I  will  ride  with  you  !  " 


148  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Nay,  madam,  there  are  enough  of  us.  But  your 
horses  are  fre.sher  than  ours.  I  take  some  of  yours, 
in  the  queen's  name,  and  leave  mine  in  your  charge," 
And  he  forthwith  dismounted,  ordering  his  men  to  do 
likewise.  But  ere  he  made  another  movement,  his 
hand  happening  to  seek  his  pouch,  he  uttered  an 
oath,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  The  queen's  letters !  There's  delay  !  They 
must  be  delivered  to-night.  Madam,  know  you 
where  Sir  William  Crashaw's  house  is  ?  And  Mr. 
Richard  Brewby's  ? " 

"Both  are  down  the  first  road  to  the  right." 

"  Then  down  the  first  road  to  the  right  I  must  go, 
and  let  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  gain  time  while  I  am 
about  it.  Which  is  your  best  horse,  mistress  ?  And 
one  of  your  men  shall  guide  me  to  those  gentlemen's 
houses."  And,  resigning  his  horse  to  a  follower,  he 
strode  into  the  midst  of  the  Hazlehurst  group. 

"  But  why  lose  this  time,  sir  ?  "  said  Anne.  "  Let 
my  man  himself  bear  these  letters." 

"When  I  am  charged  with  letters,"  replied  Roger 
Barnet,  "  they  pass  not  from  me  save  into  the  hands 
for  which  they  are  intended.  I  shall  carry  these 
letters,  and  catch  this  traitor.  By  your  leave,  I  take 
this  horse  —  and  this  —  and  this.  Get  off,  fellow  ! 
Hudsdon,  bring  my  saddle,  and  saddle  me  this  beast. 
Change  horses,  the  rest  of  you." 

"  But  will  you  not   send   men   after  this   traitor, 


"A   DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  149 

while  you  bear  the  letters  ? "  queried  Anne,  making 
no  protest  against  the  pressing  of  her  horses  into  the 
queen's  service,  - —  a  procedure  in  which  no  attempt 
was  made  to  include  the  horse  she  herself  was  on. 

Barnet  gave  a  grunt  of  laughter,  to  which  he 
added  the  words,  "  My  men  go  with  me !  "  Perhaps 
he  dared  not  trust  his  men  out  of  his  sight,  per 
haps  he  wished  no  one  but  himself  to  have  the 
credit  of  taking  the  fugitive,  perhaps  he  needed  the 
protection  of  his  complete  force  against  possible 
attack. 

"But,  man,"  cried  Anne,  sharply,  "you  will  lose 
track  of  Sir  Valentine !  You  will  take  two  hours, 
carrying  those  letters  !  " 

"  Why,  mistress,"  replied  Barnet,  as  the  change  of 
horses  from  one  party  to  the  other  went  rapidly  on, 
"  will  not  people  in  farmhouses  and  villages  hear  his 
three  horses  pass  ?  "  Though  he  assumed  a  voice  of 
confidence,  there  was  yet  in  it  a  tone  betraying  that 
he  shared  her  fears. 

"He  ought  to  be  followed  while  he  is  yet  scarce 
out  of  hearing,"  said  Anne,  "and  overtaken,  and 
hindered  one  way  or  another  till  you  catch  up." 

Barnet  cast  a  gloomy  look  at  her,  as  if  pained  at 
the  mention  of  a  course  so  excellent,  but  in  the 
present  case  so  impossible. 

"My  horse  is  the  best  in  the  county,"  she  went 
on.  "  I  can  catch  him,  —  hang  me  if  I  cannot !  I 


I5O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

can  delay  him,  too,  if  there  be  any  way  under  heaven 
to  do  so !  Dickon,  look  to  thy  wounded  fellows  ! 
See  them  taken  home,  and  show  this  gentleman  the 
way  to  Sir  William  Crashaw's  and  Mr.  Brewby's. 
Come,  Francis!"  —this  to  the  small  attendant  who 
kept  always  near  her  —  "  God  be  praised,  you  are 
well-mounted,  too !  "  And  she  turned  her  horse's 
head  toward  Stevenage. 

"But,  Mistress  Anne,"  cried  Dickon,  in  dismay, 
"  you  will  be  robbed  —  killed  !  Ride  not  without 
company !  " 

"  Let  go,  Dickon,  and  do  as  I  bid !  I  shall  ride 
so  fast,  the  fiend  himself  cannot  catch  me,  till  I  fall 
in  with  that  traitor ;  and  then  I  shall  have  him  and 
his  men  for  company  till  this  officer  come  up  to 
him.  Master  Messenger,  for  mine  own  reasons  I 
promise  to  impede  Sir  Valentine ;  to  be  a  burden,  a 
weight,  and  a  chain  upon  him,  holding  him  back  by 
all  means  I  can  devise,  till  you  bear  your  letters  and 
o'ertake  him.  Dickon,  heed  my  orders  !  Follow  me, 
Francis !  Ods-daggers,  must  I  be  a  milksop,  and 
afraid  o'  nights,  because  I  wasn't  born  to  wear  hose 
instead  of  petticoats  ?  "  And  having  by  this  time  got 
her  horse  clear  of  the  group  in  the  road,  she  made 
off  toward  Stevenage,  followed  by  her  mounted  page, 
Francis. 

"  It  may  turn  out  well  for  us  that  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood  happened  to  kill  her  brother,"  was  the 


"A   DEVIL    OF  A    WOMAN."  151 

only  comment  of  Roger  Barnet,  as  he  mounted 
the  horse  his  man  Hudsdon  had  newly  saddled.  He 
had  seen  much  and  many,  in  his  time,  and  was  not 
surprised  at  anything,  especially  if  it  bore  the  shape 
of  a  woman. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    FIRST    DAY    OF    THE    FLIGHT. 
"  That  wench  is  stark  mad,  or  wonderful  froward."  —  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

THE  object  of  this  double  chase,  Master  Marryott, 
rode  on  with  his  two  men,  through  the  night,  beyond 
Stevenage,  at  what  pace  it  seemed  best  to  maintain. 
The  slowness,  incredible  to  a  bicyclist  or  horseman 
who  to-day  follows  the  same  route,  was  all  the  greater 
for  the  darkness  ;  but  slowness  had  good  cause  with 
out  darkness.  English  horse-breeding  had  not  yet 
shown  or  sought  great  results  in  speed.  An  Eliza 
bethan  steed  would  make  a  strange  showing  on  a 
twentieth  century  race-track  ;  for  the  special  product 
of  those  days  was  neither  horses  nor  machines,  but 
men.  And  such  as  the  horses  were,  what  were  the 
roads  they  had  to  traverse  !  When  a  horse  put  his 
foot  down,  the  chances  were  that  it  would  land  in  a 
deep  rut,  or  slide  crunching  down  the  hardened  ridge 
at  the  side  thereof,  or  find  lodgment  in  a  soggy 
puddle,  or  sink  deep  into  soft  earth,  or  fall,  like 
certain  of  the  Scriptural  seed,  upon  stony  places.  It 
is  no  wonder,  then,  that  on  a  certain  occasion,  when 

152 


THE   FIRST  DAY  OF   THE  FLIGHT.  153 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  particularly  impatient  for  a 
swift  answer  to  a  letter  she  caused  sent  to  the  keep 
ers  of  Mary  Stuart,  the  messenger's  time  from 
London  to  Fotheringay  and  back  was  at  the  rate  of 
less  than  sixty  miles  a  day.  As  for  travel  upon 
wheels,  an  example  thereof  will  occur  later  in  this 
narrative.  But  there  was  in  those  days  one  com 
pensatory  circumstance  to  fugitives  flying  with  a 
rapidity  then  thought  the  greatest  attainable :  if 
they  could  not  fly  any  faster,  neither  could  their 
pursuers. 

The  night  journey  of  our  three  riders  continued 
in  silence.  As  no  sound  of  other  horses  now  came 
from  behind  or  from  anywhere  else,  and  as  the  ob 
jects  passed  in  the  darkness  were  but  as  indistinct 
figures  in  thick  ink  against  a  ground  of  watered  ink, 
Hal's  senses  naturally  turned  inward,  and  mainly 
upon  what  was  then  foremost  in  the  landscape  of 
his  mind.  This  was  the  face  of  Mistress  Anne 
Hazlehurst ;  and  the  more  he  gazed  upon  the  image 
thereof,  the  more  he-  sighed  at  having  to  increase  the 
distance  between  himself  and  the  reality.  His  reluc 
tance  to  going  from  the  neighborhood  of  her  was 
none  the  less  for  the  matter-of-fact  promptness  with 
which  he  did  go  therefrom.  The  face  was  no  less  a 
magnet  to  him  for  that  he  so  readily  and  steadily 
resisted  its  drawing  powers.  Those  drawing  powers 
would,  of  course,  by  the  very  nature  of  magnets, 


154  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

decrease  as  he  went  farther  from  their  source  ;  but 
as  yet  they  were  marvellously  strong.  Such  is  the 
charm  exerted  upon  impressionable  youth  by  a  pair 
of  puzzling  eyes,  a  mysterious  expression,  a  piquant 
contour,  allied  to  beauty.  All  the  effect  of  his  first 
sight  of  that  face  was  revived,  and  eked  to  greater 
magnitude  by  his  strange  confrontation  with  her, 
proud  and  wrathful  in  the  poor  lantern  rays  that  fell 
intermittently  and  shiftingly  upon  her  in  the  dark 
road. 

He  wondered  what  would  be  her  subsequent  pro 
ceedings  that  night ;  tried  to  form  a  mental  panorama 
of  her  conduct  regarding  her  wounded  servants  ;  of 
her  actions  now  that  she  saw  her  design  upset,  the 
tenor  of  her  life  necessarily  affected  by  this  new 
catastrophe  to  her  household.  He  pitied  her,  as  he 
thought  of  the  confused  and  difficult  situation  into 
which  she  had  been  so  suddenly  plunged.  And  then 
he  came  to  consider  what  must  be  her  feelings 
toward  himself.  Looking  upon  him  as  her  brother's 
slayer,  she  must  view  him  with  both  hate  and  horror. 
His  violent  treatment  of  her  servants  would  augment 
the  former  feeling  to  a  very  madness  of  impotent 
wrath. 

Yet  it  was  not  Hal  Marryott  that  she  hated,  —  it 
was  the  make-believe  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  ;  not 
the  player,  but  the  part  he  played.  Still,  a  dislike 
of  a  character  assumed  bv  an  actor  often  refuses  to 


THE   FIRST  DAY  OF   THE  FLIGHT.  155 

separate  the  actor  from  the  character  ;  moreover,  she 
must  necessarily  hate  him,  should  she  ever  come  to 
know  him,  for  having  assumed  that  part,  — for  being, 
indeed,  the  aider  of  her  enemy  against  herself.  Hal 
registered  one  determination  :  should  the  uncertain 
future  —  now  of  a  most  exceeding  uncertainty  in 
his  case  —  bring  him  in  his  own  person  into  the 
horizon  of  this  woman,  he  would  take  care  she 
should  not  know  he  had  played  this  part.  What  had 
passed  between  them  should  be  blotted  out ;  should 
be  as  if  indeed  Sir  Valentine,  not  Hal  Marryott,  had 
escaped  her  in  the  road.  And  Hal  bethought  him 
self  of  one  gain  that  the  encounter  had  yielded 
him  :  it  had  acquainted  him  with  the  name  and  place 
of  the  previously  unknown  beauty.  Some  day,  when 
he  should  have  gone  through  with  all  this  business, 
he  might  indeed  seek  her. 

When  he  should  have  gone  through  with  this 
business  ?  The  uncertain  future  came  back  to  his 
thoughts.  What  would  be  the  outcome  of  this 
strange  flight  ?  So  strange,  that  if  he  should  tell 
his  friends  in  London  of  it,  they  would  laugh  at  the 
tale  as  at  a  wild  fiction.  Fool  a  trained  man-hunter, 
a  royal  messenger  grown  old  in  catching  people  for 
the  council,  and  fool  him  by  such  a  device  as  Hal 
had  employed  !  Act  a  part  in  real  life,  even  for  a 
moment,  to  the  complete  deception  of  the  spectator 
intended  to  be  duped  !  To  be  sure,  Dick  Tarleton 


156  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

had  done  so,  when  he  pretended  in  an  inn  at  Sand 
wich  to  be  a  seminary  priest,  in  order  to  be  arrested 
and  have  the  officers  pay  his  score  and  take  him  to 
London,  where,  being  known,  he  was  sure  to  be  dis 
charged.  But  Dick  Tarleton  was  a  great  comedian, 
and  had  essayed  to  represent  no  certain  identifiable 
seminary  priest ;  whereas  Master  Marryott,  who  had 
dared  impersonate  a  particular  known  man,  was  but 
a  novice  at  acting. 

But  Hal  soon  perceived  this  fact  :  that  playing  a 
part  on  the  stage  and  playing  a  part  in  real  life  are 
two  vastly  different  matters.  A  great  actor  of  the 
first  may  be  a  great  failure  in  the  second,  and  the 
worst  stage  player  may,  under  sufficient  stress,  fill  an 
assumed  character  deceptively  in  real  life.  The 
spectator  in  a  theatre  expects  to  see  a  character  pre 
tended,  and  knows  that  what  he  sees  is  make-believe, 
not  real.  A  spectator  in  real  life,  chosen  to  be 
duped,  expects  no  such  thing,  and  is  therefore  ready 
to  take  a  pretence  for  what  it  purports  to  be.  What 
ever  may  occur  eventually  to  undeceive  him,  he  is  in 
proper  mind  for  deception  at  first  contact  with  the 
pretence.  And  the  very  unlikelihood  of  such  an 
attempt  as  Hal's,  the  very  seeming  impossibility  of 
its  success,  was  reason  for  Roger  Barnet's  not  hav 
ing  suspected  it. 

These  thoughts  now  occurred  to  Hal  for  the  first 
time.  Should  he  succeed  in  his  novel  adventure,  he 


THE   FIRST  DAY  OF   THE   FLIGHT.  157 

might  congratulate  himself  upon  the  achievement, 
not  of  a  great  feat  of  stage-playing,  indeed,  though 
to  his  stage  training  he  owed  his  quick  perception 
and  imitation  of  Sir  Valentine's  chief  physical  pecu 
liarities,  but  of  a  singular  and  daring  act,  in  which 
he  both  actually  and  figuratively  played  a  part. 

But  was  he  destined  to  succeed  ?  Was  Roger 
Barnet  still  upon  his  track  ?  Or  was  he  fleeing 
from  nothing,  leaving  a  track  for  nobody  to  follow  ? 
Well,  he  must  trust  to  those  at  Fleetwood  house  to 
keep  Sir  Valentine's  actual  whereabouts  from  dis 
covery,  and  to  Barnet' s  skill  in  picking  up  the  trace 
that  a  fugitive  must  leave,  willy-nilly.  But  what 
if  fate,  so  fond  of  playing  tricks  on  mortals,  should 
conceive  the  whim  of  covering  up  the  track  of  this 
one  fugitive  who  desired  his  track  to  be  seen  ?  Hal 
cast  away  this  thought.  He  must  proceed,  confi 
dently,  though  in  blindness  as  to  what  was  doing 
behind  him.  At  present,  silence  was  there ;  no 
sound  of  far-off  horse-hoofs.  But  this  might  be 
attributed  to  Barnet's  interruption  by  Anne's  party ; 
to  measures  for  procuring  fresh  horses,  and  to  the 
necessary  delivery  of  the  letters  of  which  the  queen 
had  told  him.  And  so,  fleeing  from  cold  darkness 
and  the  unknown  into  cold  darkness  and  the  un 
known,  deep  in  his  thoughts,  and  trusting  to  his  star, 
Master  Marryott  rode  on  through  Baldock  and  toward 
Biggleswade.  Kit  Bottle  presently  called  his  atten- 


158  A    GENTLE  MAX  PLAYER. 

tion  to  their  having  passed  out  of  Hertfordshire  into 
Bedfordshire. 

The  captain  had  been  hard  put  to  it  for  a  fellow 
talker.  His  remarks  to  Hal  had  elicited  only  absent 
monosyllables  or  silence.  At  last,  with  a  gulp  as  of 
choking  down  an  antipathy,  he  had  ridden  forward 
to  Anthony  and  tried  conversation  with  that  person. 
Master  Underbill  listened  as  one  swallows  by  com 
pulsion  a  disagreeable  dose,  and  gave  brief,  surly 
answers.  Kit  touched  with  perfect  freedom  upon 
the  other's  most  private  concerns,  not  deeming  that 
a  despised  dissenter  had  a  right  to  the  ordinary 
immunities. 

"  Marry,  I  know  not  which  astoundeth  me  the 
more,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  that  a  papist  should  keep 
a  Puritan  in's  household,  or  that  the  Puritan  should 
serve  the  papist !  " 

Anthony  was  for  a  moment  silent,  as  if  to  ignore 
the  impudent  speech ;  but  then,  in  a  manner  of 
resignation,  as  if  confession  and  apology  were  part 
of  his  proper  punishment,  he  said,  with  a  lofty  kind 
of  humility : 

"The  case  no  more  astoundeth  you  than  it  re- 
proacheth  me.  It  biteth  my  conscience  day  and 
night,  and  hath  done  so  this  many  a  year.  Daily  I 
resolve  me  to  quit  the  service  of  them  that  cherish 
the  gauds  and  idolatries  of  papistry.  But  the  flesh 
is  weak ;  I  was  born  in  Sir  Valentine's  household, 


THE    FIRST  DAY   OF   THE   FLIGHT.  159 

and  I  could  not  find  strength  to  wrench  me  from 
it." 

"Ay,"  said  Kit,  "no  doubt  it  hath  been  in  its 
way  a  fat  stewardship,  though  the  estate  be  de 
creased.  The  master  being  so  oft  abroad,  and  all 
left  to  your  hands,  I'll  warrant  there  have  been 
plump  takings,  for  balm  to  the  bites  o'  conscience." 

"  I  perceive  you  are  a  flippant  railer ;  but  you 
touch  me  not.  What  should  they  of  no  religion 
understand  of  the  bites  of  conscience  ?  " 

"  No  religion !  Go  to,  man !  Though  I  be  a 
soldier,  and  of  a  free  life,  look  you,  I've  practised 
more  religions  than  your  ignorance  wots  of ;  and 
every  one  of  them  better  than  your  scurvy,  hang 
dog,  vinegar-faced  nonconformity  !  Nay,  I  have  been 
Puritan,  too,  when  it  served  my  turn,  in  the  days 
when  I  was  of  Walsingham's  men.  He  had  pre 
cisian  leanings,  and  so  had  the  clerk  o'  the  council, 
Mr.  Beal.  But  you  are  an  ingrate,  to  fatten  on  a 
good  service,  yet  call  it  a  reproach  !  " 

"  Fatten  !  "  echoed  the  Puritan,  glancing  down  at 
his  spare  frame.  "  Mayhap  it  hath  been  a  good 
service  formerly,  by  comparison  with  its  having  this 
night  made  me  partaker  in  a  five  days'  lie,  abettor 
of  a  piece  of  play-acting,  and  associate  of  a  scurrilous 
soldier ! " 

With  which  Anthony  Underbill  quickened  his 
horse  so  as  to  move  from  the  captain's  side ;  where- 


160  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

upon  Kit,  too  amazed  for  timely  outward  resentment, 
lapsed  into  silent  meditation. 

They  rode  through  Biggleswade.  Fatigue  was 
now  telling  on  them.  Hal's  latest  sleep  had  been 
that  of  the  previous  morning,  in  the  cold  open  air 
of  Whitehall  garden,  — an  age  ago  it  seemed  !  Kit's 
most  recent  slumbers,  taken  even  earlier,  had  been, 
doubtless,  in  equally  comfortless  circumstances. 
Hal  learned,  by  a  question,  that  Anthony  had  passed 
yesternight  in  bed,  warm  and  sober.  So  Hal  de 
cided  that  when  the  three  should  stop  at  dawn  for 
rest,  food,  change  of  horses,  and  the  removal  of  the 
false  beard,  himself  and  Kit  should  attempt  an  hour's 
repose  while  Anthony  should  watch.  The  Puritan 
should  be  one  of  the  sleepers,  Kit  the  watcher,  at 
the  second  halt.  Hal  planned  and  announced  all 
details  for  assuring  an  immediate  flight  on  the  distant 
advent  of  the  pursuers.  A  system  of  brief  stops 
and  of  alternate  watches  could  be  employed  through 
out  the  whole  flight  without  loss  of  advantage, 
for  Barnet  also  would  have  to  make  similar  de 
lays  for  rest,  food,  and  the  changing  or  baiting  of 
horses. 

On  wore  the  night.  They  passed  through  Eaton 
Socon,  and  continued  northward  instead  of  turning 
into  St.  Neots  at  the  right.  They  took  notice  here, 
as  they  had  taken  at  previous  forkings  of  the  road; 
that  there  were  houses  at  or  near  the  junction,  — 


THE  FIRST  DAY  OF   THE   FLIGHT.  l6l 

houses  in  which  uneasy  slumberers  would  be  awakened 
by  their  passing  and  heed  which  way  their  horses 
went.  Roger  Barnet  would  have  but  to  ride  up 
noisily,  and,  perchance,  pound  and  call  at  a  house  or 
two,  to  bring  these  persons  to  windows  with  word 
of  what  they  had  heard.  Hal  marvelled  as  he 
thought  of  it  the  more,  how  the  nature  of  things 
will  let  no  man  traverse  this  world,  or  any  part  of  it, 
without  leaving  trace  of  his  passage.  He  saw  in 
this  material  fact  an  image  of  life  itself,  and  in  the 
night  silence,  broken  only  by  the  clatter  of  his 
horses  and  by  some  far-off  dog's  bark  or  cock's 
crow,  he  had  many  new  thoughts.  So  he  rode  into 
Huntingdonshire,  and  presently,  as  the  pallor  of 
dawn  began  to  blanch  the  ashen  sky,  he  passed 
Kimbolton,  whose  castle  now  seemed  a  chill  death- 
place  for  poor  Catherine  of  Aragon ;  and,  four  miles 
farther  on,  he  drew  up,  in  the  dim  early  light,  before 
the  inn  at  Catworth  Magna,  and  set  Kit  bawling 
lustily  for  the  landlord. 

A  blinking  hostler  came  from  the  stable  yard,  and 
the  beefy-looking  host  from  the  inn  door,  at  the 
same  time.  But  the  travellers  would  not  get  off 
their  mounts  until  they  were  assured  of  obtaining 
fresh  ones.  Captain  Bottle  did  the  talking.  The 
new  horses  were  brought  out  to  the  green  before 
the  inn.  Kit  dismounted  and  examined  them,  then 
struck  a  bargain  with  the  inn-keeper  for  their  use, 


1 62  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

dragging  the  latter's  slow  wits  to  a  decision  by  main 
force.  This  done,  Hal  leaped  to  the  ground,  called 
for  a  room  fronting  on  the  green,  a  speedy  breakfast 
served  therein,  a  razor  and  shaving  materials  taken 
thither,  and  some  oat-cakes  and  ale  brought  out  to 
Anthony,  who  should  stay  with  the  horses. 

Hal  then  strode  up  and  down  the  green,  while 
Anthony  ate  and  Kit  and  the  hostler  transferred  the 
saddles  and  bridles.  He  kept  well  muffled  about 
the  face  with  his  cloak,  in  such  manner  as  at  once 
to  display  his  beard  and  yet  conceal  the  evidence 
of  its  falseness.  The  new  horses  ready,  Anthony 
mounted  one,  and,  under  pretence  of  exercising  them, 
moved  off  with  them  toward  the  direction  whence 
Barnet  would  eventually  come.  Hal,  to  forestall  hin 
drance  in  case  of  a  necessarily  hasty  departure,  handed 
the  inn-keeper  gold  enough  to  cover  all  charges  he 
might  incur,  and  was  shown,  with  Kit,  to  a  small, 
bare-walled,  wainscoted,  plastered,  slope-roofed  room 
up-stairs.  He  threw  open  the  casement  toward  the 
green,  and  promptly  fell  upon  the  eggs,  fish,  and 
beer  that  were  by  this  time  served  upon  a  board  set 
on  stools  instead  of  on  trestles.  Finishing  simulta 
neously  with  Kit,  Hal  took  off  his  false  beard,  strewed 
its  severed  tufts  over  the  floor,  and  then  submitted 
his  face,  which  had  a  few  days'  natural  growth  of 
stubble,  to  a  razor  wielded  by  the  captain.  After 
this  operation,  the  two  stretched  themselves  upon 


THE   FIRST  DA  Y  OF   THE   FLIGHT.  1 63 

the  bed,  in  their  clothes,  their  heads  toward  the  open 
window. 

A  dream  of  endless  riding,  varied  by  regularly 
renewed  charges  against  a  wall  of  plunging  horses 
that  invariably  fled  away  to  intervene  again,  and  by 
the  alternate  menacings  and  mockings  of  a  beauti 
ful  face,  culminated  in  a  clamorous  tumult  like  the 
shouting  of  a  multitude.  Hal  sprang  up.  Bottle 
was  bounding  from  the  bed  at  the  same  instant. 

The  sound  was  only  the  steadily  repeated,  "  Halloo, 
halloo!"  of  Anthony  Underbill  beneath  the  open  win 
dow.  Hal  looked  out.  The  Puritan  sat  his  horse  on 
the  green,  holding  the  other  two  animals  at  his  either 
side,  all  heads  pointed  northward.  On  seeing  Hal, 
he  beckoned  and  was  silent. 

Hal  and  Kit  rushed  to  the  passage,  thence  down 
the  stairs,  and  through  the  entrance-way,  to  horse. 
The  landlord,  called  forth  by  Anthony's  hullabaloo, 
stared  at  them  in  wonder.  Hal  returned  his  gaze, 
that  an  impression  of  the  newly  shaven  face  might 
remain  well  fixed  in  the  host's  mind  ;  and  then  jerked 
rein  for  a  start.  Neither  Hal  nor  Kit  had  yet  taken 
time  to  look  for  the  cause  of  Anthony's  alarm.  As 
they  galloped  away  from  the  inn,  Hal  heard  the 
patter  of  horses  coming  up  from  the  south.  He 
turned  in  his  saddle,  expecting  to  see  Roger  Barnet 
and  his  crew  in  full  chase. 

But  the  horses  were  only  two  in  number,  and  on 


164  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

them  were  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  in  a  crimson  cloak 
and  hood,  and  the  page  in  green  who  had  attended 
her  at  the  theatre.  Hal's  heart  bounded  with  sudden 
pleasure.  As  he  gazed  back  at  her,  he  caught  him 
self  smiling. 

She  saw  him,  noted  his  two  companions,  and 
seemed  to  be  in  doubt.  The  landlord  was  still  before 
the  inn.  She  reined  up,  and  spoke  to  him.  Hal 
could  see  the  innkeeper  presently,  while  answering 
her,  put  his  hand  to  his  chin.  "  Good  !  "  thought 
Hal ;  "  he  is  telling  her  that,  though  I  depart 
smooth-faced,  I  arrived  bearded." 

The  next  moment,  she  and  the  page  were  riding 
after  the  three  fugitives. 

Without  decreasing  his  pace,  Hal  asked  Anthony  : 

"  Was  it  she  only  that  you  saw  coming  ?  Are 
Barnet's  men  behind  ?  " 

"  'Twas  she  only.  But  she  is  enough  to  raise  the 
country  on  us  !  " 

"Think  you  that  is  her  purpose  ?  " 

"Ay,"  replied  Anthony.  "She  hath  heard  of  the 
treason  matter  from  the  pursuivant,  and  hath  shot 
off,  like  bolt  from  bow,  to  denounce  you.  'Tis  her 
method  of  vengeance." 

"'Tis  like  a  woman  —  of  a  certain  kind,"  com 
mented  Kit  Bottle,  who  had  taken  in  the  situation  as 
promptly  as  the  others  had. 

"'Tis  like  a  Hazlehurst,"  said  Anthony. 


THE   FIRST  DAY  OF    THE   FLIGHT.  165 

"Well,"  said  Master  Marryott,  for  a  pretext,  "'tis 
doubtless  as  you  say ;  but  I  desire  assurance.  It 
may  serve  us  to  know  her  intentions.  She  cannot 
harm  us  here."  (They  were  now  out  of  the  village.) 
"Though  she  would  raise  hell's  own  hue  and  cry 
about  us,  she  might  halloo  her  loudest,  none  would 
hear  at  this  part  of  the  road.  We  shall  wait  for  her." 

Anthony  cast  a  keen  glance  at  Hal,  and  Kit  Bottle 
thrust  his  tongue  in  his  cheek  and  looked  away,  — 
manifestations  at  which  Hal  could  only  turn  red  and 
wish  that  either  of  the  two  had  given  some  open 
cause  for  rebuke.  He  was  determined,  however ;  the 
temptation  to  play  with  fire  in  the  shape  of  a  beauti 
ful  woman  was  too  alluring,  the  danger  apparently 
too  little.  So  the  three  horses  dropped  to  a  walk,  and 
presently  the  two  that  followed  were  at  their  heel:-;. 
Hal  looked  back  as  she  came  on,  to  see  if  she  still 
carried  the  sword  she  had  used  on  the  previous 
night ;  but  he  saw  no  sign  of  it  about  her.  In  fact, 
she  had  given  it  to  Francis,  who  bore  at  his  girdle 
a  poniard  also. 

"Mistress,  you  travel  ill-protected,"  was  Hal's 
speech  of  greeting. 

"  So  my  brother  must  have  done  when  he  met 
you  last,"  was  her  prompt  and  defiant  answer. 

She  let  her  horse  drop  into  the  gait  of  Hal's,  and 
made  no  move  to  go  from  his  side.  The  Puritan 
resumed  his  place  at  the  head,  and  Francis,  in  order 


1 66  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

to  be  immediately  behind  his  mistress,  fell  in  with 
Kit  Bottle.  In  this  order  the  party  of  five  pro 
ceeded  northward,  their  horses  walking. 

"  I  did  not  harm  your  brother,"  reiterated  Marry- 
ott,  with  a  sigh. 

"I  perceive,"  she  replied,  ironically,  "you  are  not 
the  man  that  hurt  my  brother.  You  have  made  of 
yourself  another  man,  by  giving  yourself  another 
face  !  God  'a'  mercy,  the  world  is  dull,  indeed,  an 
it  is  to  be  fooled  with  a  scrape  of  a  razor  !  You 
should  have  bought  the  silence  of  mine  host  yonder, 
methinks  !  And  changed  your  company,  altered  your 
attitude,  rid  yourself  of  the  stiffness  from  the  wound 
my  brother  gave  you,  and  washed  your  face  of  the 
welt  my  sword  left  !  You  have  a  good  barber,  Sir 
Valentine ;  he  hath  shaved  a  score  of  years  from 
your  face  ;  he  hath  renewed  your  youth  as  if  with 
water  from  that  fountain  men  tell  of,  in  America !  " 

"  The  loss  of  a  long-worn  beard  indeed  giveth 
some  men  a  strange  look  of  youth,"  assented  Hal. 
as  if  humoring  her  spirit  of  bitter  derision  against 
himself.  He  was  glad  of  her  conviction  that  he 
could  look  youthful  and  yet  be  the  middle-aged  Sir 
Valentine. 

"  'Twas  so  in  the  case  of  an  uncle  of  mine,"  she 
said,  curtly,  "  which  the  more  hindereth  your  impos 
ing  on  me  with  a  face  of  five  and  twenty." 

"  Five   and   twenty  ? "  echoed    Hal,  involuntarily, 


THE  FIRST  DAY  OF   THE  FLIGHT.  l6/ 

surprised  that  he  should  appear  even  so  old.  But 
a  moment's  reflection  told  him  that  his  age  must  be 
increased  in  appearance  by  the  assumed  stiffness  of 
his  attitude ;  by  the  frown  and  the  labial  rigidity  he 
partly  simulated,  partly  had  acquired  since  yesterday  ; 
by  the  gauntness  and  pallor,  both  due  to  nervous 
tension  and  to  lack  of  sleep  and  food.  He  was 
indeed  an  older  man  than  the  "  Laertes  "  of  two  days 
ago,  and  not  to  be  recognized  as  the  same,  for  in 
the  play  he  had  worn  a  mustache  and  an  air  little 
like  his  present  thoughtful  mien. 

"And  I'll  warrant  this  new  face  will  serve  you 
little  to  throw  them  off  that  are  coming  yonder," 
she  went  on,  indicating  the  rearward  road  by  a 
slight  backward  toss  of  the  head. 

"Certain  riders  from  London,  mean  you?"  said 
Hal.  "  By  your  leave,  madam,  sith  you  be  in  their 
secrets,  I  would  fain  know  how  far  behind  us  they 
ride  ?  " 

"  Not  so  far  but  they  will  be  at  your  heels  ere 
this  day's  sun  grow  tired  of  shining." 

"  Ay,  truly  ?     They  will  do  swift  riding,  then  !  " 

"  Mayhap  'twill  come  of  their  swift  riding,"  she 
replied,  taunted  by  his  courteous,  almost  sugary, 
tone.  "  And  mayhap,  of  your  meeting  hindrance  !  " 

"  Prithee,  what  should  put  hindrance  in  my  way  ?  " 
he  inquired,  with  a  most  annoying  pretence  of  polite 
surprise  and  curiosity. 


1 68  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"I  will!"  she  cried.  "I  have  run  after  you  for 
that  purpose  !  " 

"  God's  light,  say  you  so  ?  And  what  will  you  do 
to  hinder  me  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  yet,"  she  answered,  with  high 
serenity.  "But  I  shall  find  a  way." 

"No  doubt  you  will  choose  the  simplest  way," 
said  Hal. 

"What  is  that,  I  pray  you  ?  "  she  asked,  quickly. 

But  Hal  merely  smiled.  She  followed  his  glance, 
however,  which  rested  upon  a  gabled  country-house 
far  across  the  open  field  at  their  right,  and  she  read 
his  thought. 

"Nay,"  she  said,  her  chin  elevated  haughtily,  "I 
disdain  help.  'Tis  my  humor  to  be  alone  the  means 
of  throwing  you  into  the  hands  that  bring  the  warrant 
for  you.  Nor  shall  I  lose  sight  of  you  time  enough 
to  seek  fustic  officers  and  set  them  on  you." 

"You  are  wise  in  that,"  said  Hal;  "for,  indeed, 
if  you  took  but  time  to  cry  out  against  me  to  some 
passing  wayfarer,  I  and  my  men  would  be  up-tails- 
and-away  in  a  twinkling.  For  my  own  interest,  I 
tell  you  this  ;  sith  I'd  fain  not  have  you  do  aught  to 
deprive  me  of  your  company  as  fellow  traveller." 

She  colored  with  indignation  at  this  compliment, 
and  Hal,  thereby  reminded  that  she  saw  in  him  her 
brother's  slayer,  and  sensible  how  much  affront  lay 
in  the  speech  in  the  circumstances,  reddened  as 


THE  FIRST  DAY  OF   THE   FLIGHT.  169 

deeply.  If  he  could  but  find  a  way,  without  making 
her  doubt  that  he  was  Sir  Valentine,  of  convincing 
her  that  he  had  not  been  her  brother's  opponent ! 
He  had  thought  vaguely  that,  by  his  reiterated 
denials  of  a  hand  in  the  killing,  he  might  finally 
implant  in  her  mind  the  impression  that,  though  he 
was  Sir  Valentine,  he  had  not  given  the  mortal 
thrust ;  that  there  was  some  mystery  about  the  fight, 
to  be  explained  in  time.  But  he  now  perceived  that 
if  such  an  idea  could  be  rooted  into  her  mind,  its 
effect  must  be  to  make  her  drop  the  chase  and  go 
back  to  Sir  Valentine's  neighborhood.  There  she 
might  find  conclusive  evidence  of  Sir  Valentine's 
responsibility  for  her  brother's  death,  and  make  upon 
Fleetwood  house  some  kind  of  invasion  that  would 
endanger  the  real  Sir  Valentine.  Moreover,  Hal 
took  a  keen,  though  disturbed,  joy  in  her  presence, 
despite  the  bar  of  bloodshed  that  in  her  mind  existed 
between  them  ;  and  though  to  retain  that  joy  he 
must  let  her  continue  in  that  supposition,  he  elected 
to  retain  it  at  the  price. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  she  acquired  the 
coolness  of  voice  to  answer  Hal's  thoughtlessly 
offensive  words,  she  said  : 

"  I  pray  God  to  hasten  the  hour  when  I  shall  be 
your  fellow  traveller  toward  London  !  " 

"  An  Roger  Barnet,  with  his  warrant  of  the  coun 
cil,  were  left  out,  I  should  pray  God  to  be  your 


I7O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

fellow  traveller  anywhere  !  "  was  Hal's  reply,  —  and 
again  he  had  to  curse  his  heedlessness,  as  again  he 
saw  how  odious  to  her  was  the  truth  that  had  slipped 
so  readily  out  of  him.  "  You  rode  fast,  else  you  had 
not  overtaken  me,"  he  said,  in  hope  of  changing  her 
thoughts. 

"And  having  overtaken  you,  I  shall  not  lose  you," 
she  answered. 

"  And  you  have  not  slept  nor  eaten  !  Marry,  you 
must  be  weary  and  faint,  mistress  !  " 

"  Neither  too  weary  nor  too  faint  to  dog  you  to 
your  undoing,"  she  said,  resolutely  throwing  off  all 
air  of  fatigue. 

"  And  you  risked  the  dangers  of  the  road.  Ods- 
death,  if  you  had  fallen  in  with  robbers  !  " 

"That  danger  is  past,"  she  said.  "Henceforth, 
till  the  officers  be  with  us,  I  shall  go  in  your  com 
pany,  and  the  appearance  of  you  and  your  men  will 
be  my  guard  against  robbers." 

"  Nay,  an  you  were  threatened,  I  and  my  men 
would  offer  more  than  mere  appearance  in  your 
protection,  I  do  assure  you !  " 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  she  answered,  coldly.  "Ap 
pearance  would  serve.  I  take  protection  of  you  while 
I  have  need  of  it,  and  not  as  a  favor  or  a  courtesy, 
but  as  a  right  —  " 

"  From  a  gentleman  to  a  lady,  yes,"  put  in  Hal. 

"  From    an    enemy,"   she  went   on,   ignoring  his 


THE   FIRST  DAY  OF   THE   FLIGHT.  l"J\ 

interruption,  "  sith  it  be  a  practice  in  war  to  avail 
oneself  of  the  enemy  without  scruple,  in  all  ways 
possible !  " 

Hal  sighed.  He  would  rather  let  his  protection 
be  accepted  otherwise.  But  he  inwardly  valued  her 
unconscious  tribute  to  the  gentlemanhood  she  di 
vined  in  him, — the  tribute  apparent  in  her  taking 
for  granted  that  he  would  act  her  protector  even  on 
a  journey  in  which  her  declared  object  was  to  hold 
him  back  for  the  death  he  was  flying  from.  There 
were  such  gentlemen  in  those  days ;  and  there  have 
been  such  women  as  Anne  —  women  who  will  avail 
themselves  of  the  generosity  of  men  they  are  .seeking 
to  destroy  —  in  all  days. 

He  was  glad  of  the  assurance  received  from  her 
that  Roger  Barnet  was  still  on  his  track.  Thus  far, 
all  was  going  well.  If  this  woman,  from  pride  or 
caprice  or  a  strange  jealousy  of  keeping  her  venge 
ance  all  to  herself,  did  indeed  think  to  impede  him 
by  other  and  more  exclusive  means  than  public 
denunciation  or  hue  and  cry,  he  felt  that  he  had 
little  to  fear  from  her.  To  put  her  declaration  to 
the  test,  he  held  the  horses  down  to  an  easy  gait  in 
passing  through  the  next  villages,  though  he  was 
ready  to  spur  forward  at  a  sign  ;  but  she  indicated 
no  thought  of  starting  an  outcry.  She  kept  her  eyes 
averted  in  deep  thought.  Hal  would  have  given  much 
to  read  what  was  passing  within  that  shapely  head. 


1/2  A    GENTLEMAN  FLAYER. 

Without  doubt,  she  was  intent  upon  some  plan  for 
making  a  gift  of  him  to  his  pursuers,  some  device 
for  achieving  that  revenge  which  she  craved  as  a 
solitary  feast,  and  which  she  was  not  willing  to  owe 
to  any  one  but  herself.  What  design  was  she  form 
ing  ?  Hal  imagined  she  could  not  be  very  expert 
in  designs.  A  crafty  nature  would  not  have  declared 
war  openly,  as  her  proud  and  impulsive  heart  had 
bade  her  do.  He  admired  her  for  that  frankness,  for 
that  unconscious  superiority  to  underhand  fighting. 
It  showed  a  noble,  masterful  soul,  and  matched  well 
her  imperious  beauty. 

They  rode  through  Clapton  and  Deane.  Her 
fatigue  became  more  and  more  evident,  though 
pride  and  resolution  battled  hard  against  it.  Her 
only  food  during  the  forenoon  was  some  cold  ham 
she  got  at  a  country  inn  in  Northamptonshire,  at 
which  Hal  paused  to  bait  the  horses.  They  pro 
ceeded  into  Rutlandshire.  Before  entering  Glaiston 
she  swayed  upon  her  side-saddle,  but  instantly  recov 
ered  herself.  At  Manton  she  was  shivering, — the 
day  was  indeed  a  cold  one,  though  the  sun  had  come 
out  at  eight  o'clock,  but  she  had  not  shivered  so 
before. 

"We  shall  have  dinner  and  a  rest  at  Oakham," 
said  Master  Marryott,  softly.  "'Tis  but  three  miles 
ahead." 

"  All's  one,  three  miles  or  thirty  !  "  she  answered. 


THE    FIRST  DAY   OF    THE    FLIGHT.  1/3 

As  they  stopped  before  an  inn  at  the  farther  end 
of  Oakham,  —  an  inn  chosen  by  Hal  for  its  situation 
favorable  to  hasty  flight  northward,  —  the  clocks  in 
the  town  were  sounding  noon  ;  noon  of  Wednesday, 
March  4,  1601  ;  noon  of  the  long  first  day  of  the 
hoped-for  five  days'  flight. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  LOCKED  DOOR. 

"  When  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better  place :  but  travellers  must  be  content." 
—  As  You  Like  It. 

BEFORE  alighting  from  her  horse,  Mistress  Hazle- 
hurst  waited  to  see  what  her  enemy  should  do. 
The  enemy's  first  proceedings  were  similar  to  those 
taken  upon  his  arrival  at  Catworth  Magna.  That  is 
to  say,  through  the  expeditious  offices  of  Captain 
Bottle,  new  horses  were  placed  ready  before  the 
inn,  ere  the  party  dismounted  from  the  tired  ones  ; 
dinner  and  a  room  were  bespoken  ;  and  all  possible 
charges  were  forestalled  by  advance  payment.  Anne 
imitated  this  whole  arrangement  precisely,  causing 
no  little  wonder  on  the  part  of  the  inn  people,  that 
she  should  give  her  orders  independently,  though 
they  were  exactly  like  those  of  the  three  men  with 
whom  she  and  her  page  were  manifestly  travelling. 
It  was  mentally  set  down  by  the  shrewd  ones  that 
here  were  man  and  wife,  or  brother  and  sister,  not 
on  speaking  terms,  yet  obliged  to  perform  a  journey 
together. 

Hal  remained  outside  the  inn  with  Anthony,  till 
174 


THE   LOCKED   DOOR.  1/5 

Bottle  should  ride  back  to  keep  watch.  Anne  stood 
near  him,  not  irresolute,  but  to  observe  his  actions. 
Refreshed  with  a  stirrup-cup  and  some  cakes,  Bottle 
soon  rode  off,  with  two  led  horses.  Perceiving  the 
object  of  this  movement,  Anne  dismissed  the  cap 
tain  from  her  observation,  that  she  might  concen 
trate  it  upon  the  supposed  Sir  Valentine.  As  her 
boy  Francis  was  in  no  less  need  of  food  and  sleep 
than  herself,  she  gave  a  coin  to  one  of  the  hostlers, 
with  orders  to  walk  her  horses  up  and  down  before 
the  inn  till  she  should  come  for  them. 

Hal  counted  on  her  fatigue  to  reinforce  her  proud 
determination  that  she  would  not  resort  to  the  local 
authorities  against  him.  Yet  he  would  not  go  to  his 
chamber  ere  she  went  to  hers.  Deducing  this  from 
his  actions  —  for  no  speech  passed  between  them 
while  they  tarried  before  the  inn  — and  being  indeed 
well-nigh  too  exhausted  to  stand,  she  finally  called 
for  a  servant  to  show  her  to  her  room.  Francis 
followed  her,  to  wait  upon  her  at  dinner  and  then  to 
lie  on  a  bench  outside  her  door. 

Hal  watched  her  into  the  entrance-hall  of  the  inn. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  upper  floor, 
she  stopped,  handed  a  piece  of  money  to  the  attend 
ant,  and  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone.  The 
fellow  glanced  toward  the  inn  porch  in  which  Hal 
was  standing,  and  nodded  obedience.  Hal  inferred 
that  she  was  engaging  to  be  notified  instantly  in 


I  76  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YER. 

case  of  his  departure.  A  moment  later  Hal  beck 
oned  Anthony  to  follow,  arid  went,  under  the  guid 
ance  of  the  landlady  herself,  up  to  his  own  room. 

As  he  turned  from  the  stair-head  into  the  upper 
passage,  he  saw  a  door  close,  which  he  divined  to  be 
that  of  his  fair  enemy.  A  moment  later  an  inn  ser 
vant  appeared  with  a  bench,  and  placed  it  outside 
this  door.  On  reaching  his  own  room,  in  the  same 
passage,  Hal  noticed  that  this  bench,  on  which 
Francis  was  to  rest,  stood  in  view  of  his  own  door, 
and  also  —  by  way  of  the  stairs  —  of  the  entrance- 
hall  below.  He  smiled  at  the  precautions  taken  by 
the  foe. 

Examining  his  room,  he  saw  that  it  had  the  re 
quired  window  overlooking  the  front  inn  yard  and 
the  road  beyond.  Immediately  beneath  this  window 
was  the  sloping  roof  of  the  inn  porch.  Having 
opened  the  casement,  and  moved  the  bed's  head 
near  it,  Hal  turned  to  the  dinner  that  a  servant 
was  placing  on  a  small  trestle-table,  for  which 
there  was  ample  free  space  in  the  chamber.  The 
English  inns  of  those  days  were  indeed  commodious, 
and  those  in  the  country  towns  were  better  than 
those  in  London.  Hosts  took  pride  in  their  tapes 
try,  furniture,  bedding,  plate,  and  glasses.  Some  of 
the  inns  in  the  greater  towns  and  roads  had  room 
for  three  hundred  guests  with  their  horses  and  ser 
vants.  Noblemen  travelled  with  great  retinues,  and 


THE  LOCKED  DOOR.  1 77 

carried  furniture  with  them.  It  was  a  golden  age 
of  inns, — though,  to  be  sure,  the  servants  were  in 
many  cases  in  league  with  highway  robbers,  to 
whom  they  gave  information  of  the  wealth,  destina 
tions,  routes,  and  times  of  setting  forth  of  well- 
furnished  guests.  The  inn  at  which  Hal  now 
refreshed  himself,  in  Oakham,  was  not  of  the  large 
or  celebrated  ones.  He  had  his  own  reasons  for 
resorting  to  small  and  obscure  hostelries.  Yet  he 
found  the  dinner  good,  the  ale  of  the  best,  and, 
after  that,  the  bed  extremely  comfortable,  even 
though  he  lay  in  his  clothes,  with  his  hand  on  his 
sword-hilt. 

He  had  flung  himself  down,  immediately  after 
dinner,  not  waiting  for  the  platters  and  cups  to  be 
taken  away.  Anthony,  who  had  been  as  a  table- 
fellow  sour  and  monosyllabic,  but  by  no  means 
abstemious,  for  all  his  Puritanism,  was  as  prompt 
as  Hal  to  avail  himself  of  the  comfort  of  the 
bed.  His  appreciation  was  soon  evinced  by  a  loud 
snoring,  whose  sturdy  nasality  seemed  of  a  piece 
with  his  canting,  rebuking  manner  of  speech  when  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  lured  into  conversation.  There 
was  in  his  snore  a  rhythmic  wrestling  and  protesting, 
as  of  Jacob  with  the  angel,  or  a  preacher  against 
Satan,  that  befitted  well  his  righteous  non-conformity. 
From  this  thought  —  for  which  he  wondered  that  he 
could  find  place  when  his  situation  provided  so  much 


1 78  A    GENTLEMAN  PLA  YER. 

other  matter  for  meditation  —  Hal's  mind  lapsed  into 
the  incoherent  visions  of  slumber,  and  soon  deep  sleep 
was  upon  him. 

Hal  had  arranged  that  Kit  Bottle  should  return  to 
the  inn  and  call  him,  after  four  hours,  in  the  event  of 
no  appearance  of  the  pursuit.  When  Hal  awoke  with 
a  start,  therefore,  and  yet  heard  no  such  hallooing 
as  Anthony  had  given  at  Catworth,  he  supposed  that 
Kit  must  have  summoned  him  by  a  less  alarming  cry. 
His  head  shot  out  of  the  window,  but  he  beheld  no 
Kit.  Turning  to  Anthony,  he  saw  that  the  Puritan 
had  just  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Didst  hear  anything  ?  "  queried  Hal. 

"Not  sith  I  awoke,"  was  the  answer.  "Yet  me- 
seems  in  my  sleep  there  was  a  loud  grating  sound 
and  a  terrific  crash." 

"  In  our  dreams  we  multiply  the  sounds  that  touch 
our  ears,"  said  Hal.  "  It  must  have  been  a  sound  of 
omen,  to  have  waked  us  both.  So  let  us  think  of  a 
small  grating  sound  — 

At  that  instant  his  eyes  alighted  on  the  door.  He 
would  have  sworn  a  key  had  been  in  that  door, 
though  he  had  not  locked  it  before  sleeping.  He 
had  noticed  the  key  for  its  great  size  and  rustiness. 
But  no  key  was  there  now,  at  least  on  the  inside. 
Hal  strode  from  the  bed,  and  tried  the  door.  It  was 
locked. 

"  How  now  ?  "  quoth  he.      "  Some  one  has  robbed 


THE   LOCKED  DOOR.  1/9 

us  of  our  key,  and  used  it  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
door ! " 

"  I  warrant  it  should  be  no  far  seeking  to  find 
that  some  one,"  growled  Anthony,  rising  to  his  feet. 

"Ay,"  said  Hal,  "'tis  just  the  shallow,  childish 
stop-nobody  thing  a  woman  would  do,  and  think  she 
hath  played  a  fine  trick  !  Come,  Anthony,"  -  -  Hal 
spoke  the  Puritan's  name  not  superciliously  now,  for 
he  was  beginning  to  like  a  fellow  who  could  toil 

o  o 

forward  so  uncomplainingly  through  fatigue  and 
danger,  yet  make  such  full  use  of  comforts  when 
they  fell  to  him,  —  "I  see  Captain  Bottle  riding 
hither,  at  a  walk.  That  means  'tis  four  o'clock, 
though  Master  Barnet  hath  not  yet  shown  his  face. 
We  must  be  taking  horse  again." 

And  he  dropped  out  of  the  window  to  the  porch 
roof,  let  himself  down  a  corner-post,  and  stood  in  the 
inn  yard.  Anne's  horses  were  still  there.  As  soon 
as  Anthony  was  beside  him,  Hal  stepped  into  the 
entrance-passage.  At  the  stair-foot  stood  Mistress 
Hazlehurst,  her  back  to  the  door,  giving  some  swift 
and  excited  commands  to  her  page,  Francis,  who  was 
ready  to  ride. 

She  turned  to  see  who  had  entered  the  inn.  On 
perceiving  it  was  Hal,  and  that  his  face  wore  an  in 
voluntary  quizzical  smile,  she  caught  her  breath,  and 
became  the  very  picture  of  defeat  and  self-discovered 
foolishness. 


ISO  A    GENl'LEMAN  PLAYER. 

"Have  you  seen  aught  of  a  key  I  lost?"  said 
Hal,  ere  he  thought.  "  I  need  it  to  unlock  my 
door  and  get  out  of  my  room,  as  I  am  in  some 
haste ! " 

She  turned  deep  crimson  at  the  jest;  her  eyes  shot 
a  glance  of  fire,  her  lips  closed  tight ;  and,  without  a 
word,  she  glided  past  him,  and  out  to  her  horses. 
He  saw  in  her  look  a  new  sense  of  the  insufficiency 
of  easy  and  obvious  means,  and  a  resolution  to  rise  to 
the  needs  of  her  purpose. 

"  Her  eyes  are  opened,"  mused  Hal,  following  her 
and  Francis  to  the  yard.  "  Her  next  step  is  like  to 
be  more  considerable !  " 

Meeting  Kit  and  the  horses  just  within  the  inn 
yard  gate,  Hal  and  Anthony  mounted.  Anne  and 
her  page  were  prompt  to  follow  their  example.  With 
courtesy,  Hal  held  back  his  horses  for  her  to  pre 
cede  him  out  to  the  road.  A  minute  afterward 
the  five  riders,  so  strangely  brought  into  a  single 
group,  were  pushing  northward  in  the  cold,  waning 
afternoon. 

She  had  slept  some,  and  was  the  better  for  the 
food  she  had  taken.  Yet  this  riding  was  manifestly 
a  wearier  business  than  it  could  have  been  at  the 
time  of  her  setting  out.  It  was  a  chilly  business, 
too,  for  March  had  begun  to  turn  out  very  January- 
like,  and  was  steadily  becoming  more  so.  The  look 
of  dogged  endurance  that  mingled  on  her  face  with 


THE  LOCKED   DOOR.  l8l 

the  new  resolution  there,  continually  touched  Hal's 
tender  and  pitying  side.  His  countenance  as  con 
tinually  showed  his  feelings,  and  she  perceived  them 
with  deep  and  ill-concealed  resentment. 

But  she  at  last  attained  a  degree  of  stolid  iciness 
at  which  she  remained.  It  imposed  upon  Hal,  rid 
ing  at  her  side,  a  silence  that  became  the  harder 
to  break  as  it  became  the  less  bearable.  And  the 
further  she  tried  to  put  herself  out  of  his  pity, 
the  greater  his  pity  grew,  for  the  effort  she  was 
required  to  make.  The  more  his  admiration  in 
creased,  too ;  and  if  pity  is  ever  akin  to  love,  it  is 
certainly  so  when  united  to  admiration.  Her  de 
termination  had  not  the  mannish  mien,  nor  her 
dislike  the  acrid,  ill-bred  aspect  that  would  have 
repelled  ;  they  were  of  the  womanly  and  high-born 
character  that  made  them  rather  pique  and  allure. 
Partly  to  provoke  her  feelings  to  some  change  of 
phase,  partly  to  elicit  relief  from  the  impassiveness 
in  which  she  had  sought  refuge,  partly  for  the  cruel 
pleasure  sometimes  inexplicably  found  in  torturing 
the  tender  and  beautiful,  —  a  pleasure  followed  by 
penitence  as  keen,  —  he  made  two  or  three  delicate 
jests  about  the  locked  door  ;  these  were  received 
with  momentary  glints  of  rage  from  her  dark  eyes, 
succeeded  by  coldness  more  freezing  than  before. 

The  silence  created  —  and  diffused  —  by  her  en 
veloped  the  whole  party,  making  the  ride  even  more 


I  82  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

bleak  than  it  was  already  from  the  wintry  day  and 
the  loneliness  of  the  road.  It  was  bad  weather  for 
travelling,  less  by  reason  of  the  present  cold  than  of 
the  signs  of  impending  storm.  "  There  is  snow  in  the 
air,"  growled  Anthony  Underhill  to  himself,  as  if 
he  smelled  it.  Of  the  country  through  which  they 
passed,  the  most  was  open,  only  the  pasture-land 
and  the  grounds  pertaining  immediately  to  gentle 
men's  houses  being  fenced.  Enclosures  were  a  new 
thing  in  those  days,  defended  by  the  raisers  of  sheep 
and  cattle,  bewailed  by  the  farmers  who  tilled  the 
soil.  Where  the  road  did  not  run  between  woods  or 
over  wild  moors,  it  gave  views  of  far-off  sheep-cotes, 
of  mills,  and  here  and  there  of  distant  castle-towers, 
or  the  gables  of  some  squire's  rambling  manor-house  ; 
or  it  passed  through  straggling  villages,  each  with 
a  central  green  having  a  may-pole  and  an  open 
pool. 

But  most  human  life  was  indoors  upon  this  evening 
of  belated  winter  ;  still  and  brown  was  the  landscape. 
Once,  soon  after  they  had  passed  from  Rutlandshire 
into  Leicestershire,  a  burst  of  yokelish  laughter  struck 
their  ears  from  among  some  trees,  like  a  sudden  ray 
of  light  and  warmth  in  a  cold,  dead  world.  It  came 
from  some  yeomen's  sons  who  were  destroying  the 
eggs  of  birds  of  prey.  The  population  of  Melton 
Mowbray  was  housed  and  at  supper,  as  they  rode 
through  that  town  in  the  early  dusk  without  stop. 


THK   LOCKED   DOOR.  183 

•  On  into  Nottinghamshire  they  went  ;  and  at  last, 
checked  alike  by  darkness  and  by  weariness,  they 
came  to  a  halt  before  a  little,  low,  wobbly-looking 
wood-and-plaster  inn  at  the  junction  of  the  Notting 
ham  road  with  the  cross-road  to  Newark. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

WINE    AND    SONG. 
"  He's  in  the  third  degree  of  drink  ;  he's  drowned."  —  Twelfth  Night. 

THE  inn  people  coming  forth  with  a  light,  Hal 
made  similar  arrangements  to  those  effected  at  his 
two  previous  stopping-places,  with  this  difference, 
that  he  himself  was  to  watch  for  two  hours,  and 
then  be  succeeded  by  Anthony.  Anne  could  not 
exactly  repeat  her  precautions  taken  at  Oakham, 
for  Hal  procured  the  only  available  fresh  horses 
before  she  applied  for  any  ;  nor  could  she  arrange 
that  her  own  horses  should  be  held  in  readiness 
before  the  inn.  She  caused  them,  however,  to  be 
fed  and  kept  in  an  unlocked  shed,  from  which  her 
page  might  speedily  take  them  out  ;  and  she  was 
successful  in  bespeaking  information  in  case  of  the 
enemy's  departure. 

Though  Hal  left  her  sight  in  riding  back  to  keep 
watch,  she  now  knew  that  he  would  not  flee  with 
out  calling  his  attendants,  nor  could  he  continue  his 
flight  in  either  practicable  direction  —  toward  Not 
tingham  or  toward  Newark  —  without  passing  the 

184 


WINE   AND  SONG.  185 

inn.  So  she  went  to  her  room  —  one  of  the  few 
with  which  the  low  upper  story  of  the  house  was 
provided  —  in  confident  mind,  stationing  Francis  on 
a  bench  where  he  might,  in  a  state  of  half  slumber, 
watch  the  door  of  Kit  and  Anthony.  As  for  the 
window  of  the  room  taken  by  these  two,  it  was  not 
far  from  her  own,  and  by  keeping  the  latter  open 
she  counted  upon  hearing  any  exit  made  through 
the  former.  She  lay  down,  and  dozed  wakefulry. 

Hal's  watch  was  without  event.  As  he  moved  up 
and  down  the  silent  road  with  his  horses,  he  con 
tinued  to  ask  himself  whether  she  might  yet  have 
formed  a  plan  of  action  against  him  ;  and  from  this 
question  he  fell  to  considering  what  plan  might  be 
possible.  He  tried  to  devise  one  for  her,  but  could 
invent  none  that  he  saw  himself  unable  to  defeat. 

He  returned  to  the  inn  at  the  end  of  his  two 
hours,  and  summoned  Anthony  by  a  whistle  pre 
viously  agreed  upon.  Anthony  came  down  by  the 
stairs,  and  went  silently  on  guard.  Hal,  who  had 
not  yet  eaten,  now  entered  the  inn  with  a  ready 
appetite  for  the  supper  he  had  previously  ordered. 
As  he  stepped  from  the  outer  wind  into  the  passage, 
he  noticed  that  the  door  was  open  which  led  thence 
to  the  inn  parlor.  Just  within  that  door  stood  a 
figure.  He  glanced  at  it.  By  the  light  of  the 
candles  farther  in  the  room,  he  saw  that  it  was 
Mistress  Hazlehurst. 


I  86  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Sir,"  she  said  to  him,  in  a  dry  tone,  which,  as 
also  her  face,  she  tried  to  rob  of  all  expression  save 
that  of  ordinary,  indifferent  civility,  "  I  learn  you 
bespoke  supper  to  be  sent  to  your  room.  I  am 
having  mine  own  served  here.  We  have  full  under 
standing  of  each  other's  intent.  There  is  open  war 
fare  between  us.  Yet  while  we  be  fellow  travellers, 
each  set  upon  the  other's  defeat,  meseems  we  should 
as  well  comport  ourselves  as  fellow  travellers  till  one 
win  the  other's  undoing.  Though  writ  down  in 
blood  as  bitter  foes,  in  birth  we  are  equal,  and  our 
lands  are  neighbor.  So  I  do  offer  that  we  sup 
together,  as  becometh  people  of  civility  upon  the 
same  journey,  though  enemies  they  be  to  the  death." 

To  this  proposal,  so  congenial  with  his  inclina 
tions,  what  could  Master  Marryott  do  but  forthwith 
assent,  too  dazzled  by  the  prospect  to  torture  his 
brain  for  a  likely  motive  on  her  part  ?  With  a 
"Right  readily,  mistress!"  he  hastened  to  give  the 
necessary  orders,  and  then  entered  the  parlor,  which 
had  no  occupant  but  Mistress  Anne.  The  last 
tippler  of  the  night  had  sought  his  bed. 

At  one  side  of  the  low  room  was  a  fire  in  a  wide 
hearth.  At  another  side,  beneath  a  deep,  long, 
horizontal  window  was  a  table,  on  which  some  dishes 
were  already  set.  The  floor  was  covered  with  stale 
rushes.  There  were  no  hangings  on  the  besmoked, 
plastered,  timbered  walls.  The  poor  candles  shed 


WINE   AND  SONG.  l8/ 

a  wavering  light.  This  was  no  Mermaid  tavern, 
indeed.  Yet  Hal  felt  mightily,  dangerously  comfort 
able  here. 

He  opened  a  casement  a  little,  that  he  might  hear 
any  alarm  from  Anthony,  and  then  he  sat  down  at 
the  table,  opposite  Anne.  He  saw  that  Francis, 
who  seemed  of  wire,  and  proof  against  fatigue  and 
lack  of  sleep,  stood  ready  to  wait  upon  his  mistress. 
He  saw,  too,  that  her  wine  was  placed  on  a  rude 
kind  of  sideboard,  to  be  served  from  thence  each 
time  a  sip  might  be  wanted,  as  in  the  private  houses 
of  gentlefolk.  When  a  tapster  came,  sleepy  and 
muttering  to  himself,  with  Hal's  wine,  Master  Mar- 
ryott  ordered  it  put  as  the  lady's  was ;  and  then 
Mistress  Hazlehurst  proposed,  in  the  manner  she 
had  used  before,  that  the  inn  servant  be  dismissed 
and  Francis  wait  upon  them  both. 

"  It  is  but  fair  repayment,"  she  added,  "  for  the 
protection  I  receive  upon  the  road  by  the  presence 
of  your  men." 

Hal  was  nothing  loath.  He  would  not  show  sus 
picion,  if  he  felt  any,  at  being  invited  to  be  left  alone 
with  his  enemy  and  her  servant.  Francis  was  but 
a  slip  of  a  boy,  —  and  yet,  in  his  tirelessness,  his  re 
poseful  manner,  his  discreet  look,  the  closeness  of 
his  mouth,  there  was  sufficient  of  the  undisclosed, 
of  the  possibly  latent,  to  put  a  wise  man  on  his 
guard.  Hal  kept  a  corner  of  his  eye  upon  the  page, 


I  88  A    GENiLEMAN  PLAYER. 

therefore,  while  with  the  rest  of  it  he  studied  the 
fine  face  and  graceful  motions  —  motions  the  more 
effective  for  being  few  —  of  the  page's  mistress. 

The  early  part  of  the  meal  went  in  silence,  Francis 
attending  to  the  dishes  and  serving  the  wine  noise 
lessly,  with  neither  haste  nor  tardiness.  Hal  saw 
in  the  looks  of  both  lady  and  page  the  reviving 
effects  of  a  short  sleep  and  of  cold  water.  Anne 
ate,  not  as  if  hungry,  but  as  if  providing  against 
possible  exposure  and  fasting.  That  Francis  might 
not  have  to  depart  unfed,  she  bade  him  partake  of 
certain  dishes  as  he  bore  them  from  before  her.  He 
contrived  to  do  this,  and  yet  to  see  that  Master 
Marryott  never  wanted  for  wine. 

And,  indeed,  Master  Marryott,  warmed,  comforted, 
made  to  see  things  rosily,  put  into  mood  of  rare 
good-feeling  and  admiration,  kept  Francis  busy  and 
busier  between  the  sideboard  and  the  wine-cup  at  Hal's 
hand.  Finally,  the  page,  when  he  should  have  taken 
the  flagon  back  to  the  sideboard,  set  it  down  on  the 
table,  that  he  might  thereafter  fill  the  cup  without 
even  the  loss  of  time  involved  in  traversing  the 
rush-covered  floor.  Was  this  the  boy's  own  happy 
thought,  or  was  it  in  obedience  to  a  meaning  glance 
from  his  mistress  ?  Hal  did  not  query  himself  on 
this  point ;  he  had  observed  no  meaning  glance. 
He  was  entering  the  seventh  heaven  of  wine ;  it 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  he 


WINE   AND  SONG.  189 

should  find  the  flagon  constantly  at  his  elbow.  And 
suddenly  this  silence,  so  long  maintained,  appeared 
absurd,  unaccountable.  God-'a'-mercy !  why  should 
people  sit  tongue-tied  in  this  manner  ?  Wherefore 
he  spoke  : 

"  Truly  'twas  well  thought  on  that  we  might  use 
civil  courtesy  between  us,  enemies  though  you  will 
have  us  !  Tis  like  the  exchange  of  gentleness  'tvvixt 
our  noblest  soldiers  and  those  of  Spain,  in  times  of 
truce,  or  even  in  the  breathing  moments  'tween 
sword-thrusts.  Truly,  courtesy  sweeteneth  all  trans 
actions,  even  those  of  enmity  and  warfare !  'Tis 
like  this  wine  that  giveth  a  soft  and  pleasing  hue,  as 
of  its  own  color,  to  all  one  sees  and  hears  when  one 
has  drunk  of  it.  Taste  it,  madam,  I  pray.  Your 
glass  hath  not  been  once  refilled.  Nay,  an  you  spare 
the  wine  so,  I  shall  say  you  but  half  act  upon  your 
own  offer !  " 

She  drank  what  remained  in  her  cup,  and  let 
Francis  fill  it  again. 

"  No  doubt  the  ladies  of  France  drink  more  wine 
than  we  of  England,"  she  said,  as  if  at  the  same 
time  to  account  for  his  importunity  and  her  modera 
tion.  He  perceived  the  allusion  to  Sir  Valentine's 
long  residence  in  France,  and  was  put  on  his  guard 
against  betraying  himself.  He  ought  to  have  taken 
more  into  mind  that  she  regarded  him  as  her  broth 
er's  slayer,  and  that  her  tone  was  strangely  urbane 


A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

for  such  regarding,  even  though  courtesy  had  been 
agreed  upon.  But  by  this  time  he  had  too  much 
wine  in.  He  had  long  since  exhausted  the  contents 
of  his  own  flagon,  and  was  now  being  served  from 
hers. 

"The  ladies  of  France,"  he  replied,  "are  none 
the  better  of  the  ladies  of  England  for  that." 

"  I  have  heard  there  is  a  certain  facility  and  grace 
in  them,  that  we  lack,"  she  answered,  having  noticed 
that  he  drank  at  the  end  of  each  speech  he  made. 

"It  may  be,"  he  said,  "but  'tis  the  facility  and 
grace  of  the  cat,  with  claws  and  teeth  at  the  back 
of  it."  He  had  to  speak  of  French  ladies  entirely 
from  hearsay.  "  For  softness,  united  with  strength 
and  candor,  for  amplitude  and  warmth  of  heart, 
commend  me  to  the  English  ladies."  Euphuism 
was  still  the  fashion,  and  people  of  breeding  had 
the  knack  of  conversing  offhand  in  sentences  that 
would  now  seem  studied. 

The  cup-lifting  that  followed  this  remark  was 
accompanied  by  so  direct  a  look  at  her  that  she 
could  not  but  know  for  which  particular  English 
lady  the  compliment  was  intended.  She  gave  no 
outward  sign  of  anger. 

"The  French  excel  us  in  their  wine,  at  least," 
she  replied,  sipping  from  her  cup  as  if  to  demonstrate 
the  sincerity  of  her  words,- — an  action  that  instantly 
moved  Master  Hal  to  further  and  deeper  potations. 


SHE    GAVI-:    NO    Ol'TWARD    SIGN    OF    ANGER." 


WINE   AND   SONG.  19 1 

"Why,  I  should  be  an  ingrate  to  gainsay  that," 
said  he.  "  Tis  indeed  matter  for  thanks  that  we, 
sitting  by  night  in  this  lone  country  ale-house,  —  'tis 
little  better,  —  with  the  March  wind  howling  wolf- 
like  without,  may  imbibe,  and  cheer  our  souls  with, 
the  sunlight  that  hath  fallen  in  past  years  upon 
French  hillsides.  But  we  should  be  churls  to 
despise  the  vineyards  of  Spain  or  Italy,  either !  Or 
the  Rhenish,  that  hath  gladdened  so  many  a  heart 
and  begot  so  many  a  song !  Lovest  thou  music, 
madam  ? " 

She  kept  a  startled  silence  for  a  moment,  at  a  loss 
how  to  receive  the  change  from  "you"  to  "thou" 
in  his  style  of  addressing  her.  In  truth  the  famili 
arity  was  on  his  part  unpremeditated  and  innocent. 
But,  for  another  reason  than  that,  she  speedily 
decided  to  overlook  it,  and  she  answered,  in  words 
that  gave  Hal  a  sudden  thrill,  for  they  were  those  of 
one  of  Master  Shakespeare's  own  comedies,  often 
played  by  the  company  : 

"  The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 

She  paused  here,  as  if  struck  with  the  thought  that 
the  speech  might  not  be  known  to  the  Catholic 
knight. 

"'Tis  Lorenzo's  speech  in  'The  Merchant,'  "  said 


192  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Hal,  quite  ecstatic.  "  I  -  'he  caught  himself  in 
time  to  avoid  saying,  "  know  the  part  by  heart,  hav 
ing  studied  it  in  hope  of  some  -day  playing  it,"  and 
added,  instead,  "  saw  the  comedy  in  London  when 
'twas  first  played,  and  a  friend  sent  me  a  book  of  it 
last  year,  that  he  bought  in  Paul's  Churchyard. 
Thou'st  seen  the  play,  I  ween." 

"  And  read  it,"  she  answered,  this  time  filling  his 
glass  herself,  for  Francis  had  stolen  from  the  room 
with  a  flagon  in  quest  of  more  wine  at  the  bar. 

"  Know'st  thou  the  full  speech,"  said  he,  "  begin 
ning,  '  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this 
.  bank '  ? "  Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  and  being 
now  in  the  vinous  rage  for  reciting,  he  went  on 
through  the  scene  to  its  interruption  by  the  entrance 
of  Portia  and  Nerissa.  It  was  nothing  wonderful, 
in  those  days,  that  a  gentleman  should  speak  verse 
well ;  yet  she  viewed  him  with  some  astonishment,  in 
which  was  a  first  faint  touch  of  regret  that  circum 
stance  made  this  man,  in  whom  otherwise  she  might 
find  certain  admirable  qualities,  irrevocably  her  foe, 
to  become  inevitably  her  victim.  This  regret  she 
instantly  put  from  her,  and  set  herself  the  more  to 
plying  him  with  wine. 

"  I'll  warrant  thou  hast  music  at  the  end  of  thy 
tongue,  and  of  thy  fingers  also,"  said  Hal.  "Would 
there  were  an  instrument  here  !  Heavenly  must  be 
the  offspring,  when  such  hands  wed  string  of  lute,  or 


WINE   AND   SONG.  193 

key  of  virginal !  But  thy  lips  are  here.  Wilt  sing  ? 
All  are  abed.  I  prithee,  a  song!  " 

"  Nay,  'twere  better  you  should  sing,"  she  answered, 
by  way  of  evading  a  course  of  importunities,  and  see 
ing  that  he  was  in  ripe  mood  for  compliance. 

"  Willingly,  an  thou'lt  engage  to  sing  in  thy  turn," 
he  replied. 

She  gave  her  promise,  thinking  she  would  not 
ha.ve  to  keep  it ;  for  when  a  gentleman  in  wine  be 
comes  vocally  inclined,  he  is  apt  to  go  on  like  a 
wound-up  clock  till  he  be  stopped,  or  till  he  run 
down  into  slumber. 

So  Hal  began,  with  Shakespeare's  "  O  mistress 
mine,  where  are  you  roaming?"  as  a  song  whose 
line,  "That  can  sing  both  high  and  low,"  was  appro 
priate  to  their  recent  subject.  And  this  led  naturally 
to  the  song  "It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass,"  which  in 
turn  called  up  Ben  Jonson's  song  on  a  kiss,  from  the 
masque  of  "Cynthia's  Revels."  Then  something 
gave  a  convivial  shift  to  Hal's  thoughts,  and  he 
offered  King  Henry  VIII. 's  "Pastime  with  good 
company,"  from  which  he  went  to  the  old  drinking 
song  from  "  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle." 

Mistress  Hazlehurst,  having  perceived  that  singing 
hindered  his  drinking,  though  each  lapse  between 
songs  was  filled  with  a  hasty  draught,  was  now  will 
ing  enough  to  keep  her  promise ;  and  she  made  bold 
to  remind  him  of  it.  He  was  quite  eager  to  hear 


194  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

her,  though  it  should  require  silence  on  his  own 
part.  She  sang  Shakespeare's  "  When  icicles  hang' 
by  the  wall,"  in  a  low  and  melodious  voice,  of  much 
beauty  in  a  limited  range, — a  voice  of  the  same 
quality  as  her  ordinary  speaking  tones.  Seeing  that 
Hal,  who  gazed  in  admiration,  broke  his  own  inaction 
by  constant  applications  to  the  flagon,  which  the 
clever  Francis  had  succeeded  in  filling  at  the  bar, 
she  followed  this  song  immediately  with  "  Blow,  blow, 
thou  winter  wind." 

Hal  was  now  ready  to  volunteer  with  "  Under  the 
greenwood  tree,"  but  she  cut  him  short,  and  drove 
him  to  repeated  uses  of  the  cup,  by  starting  John 
Heywood's  song  of  "The  green  willow,"  which  she 
selected  as  suiting  her  purpose  by  reason  of  its  great 
length. 

When  this  was  at  last  finished,  Hal,  who  had  been 
regarding  her  steadily  with  eyes  that  sometimes 
blinked  for  drowsiness,  opened  his  mouth  to  put  in 
practice  a  compliment  he  had  for  some  minutes  been 
meditating,  —  that  of  singing  "Who  is  Sylvia?"  in 
such  manner  as  should  imply  that  Mistress  Hazle- 
hurst  embodied  all  the  excellences  of  her  who  "  ex 
celled  each  mortal  thing  upon  the  dull  earth  dwelling." 
She  silenced  him  at  the  outset  by  taking  up  Hey 
wood's  "Be  merry,  friends,"  at  which,  despite  how 
much  he  admired  her  face  and  was  thrilled  by  her 
voice,  he  sat  back  in  resignation  ;  for  the  old  song 


WINE   AND  SONG.  195 

she  had  this  time  hit  upon  was  as  nearly  endless  as 
it  was  monotonous.  Hal's  nurse  had  many  times 
droned  him  to  sleep  with  it,  in  his  infancy. 

And  now  its  somnolent  effect  was  as  great  as  ever. 
Save  for  her  voice,  in  the  unvarying  rhythm  of  the 
countless  four-line  stanzas  marked  by  the  refrain, 
"  Be  merry,  friends  !  "  at  the  end  of  each,  and  for  a 
frequent  moan  or  whine  of  the  wind  without,  the 
utmost  stillness  reigned.  Francis  had  effaced  him 
self  on  a  high-backed  seat  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
fireplace.  The  candles  burned  dimly  for  want  of 
snuffing,  and  they  were  just  so  far  from  Hal's  arm 
that,  in  his  drowsy  state,  it  was  too  great  an  effort 
to  reach  them.  Indeed,  it  had  now  become  too  great 
an  effort  to  draw  the  wine  flagon  toward  him.  His 
brain  swam  a  little.  He  sat  back  limp  in  his  oaken 
settle,  his  head  fell  more  and  more  heavily  toward 
his  breast.  Things  became  vaguer  and  vaguer  before 
him ;  the  face  from  whose  lips  the  soporific  melody 
proceeded  was  blended  more  and  more  with  the 
ambient  shadows.  His  eyelids  closed. 

She  continued  the  song  more  softly,  a  triumphant 
light  slowly  increasing  in  her  eyes.  At  last  her 
voice  was  still.  The  supposed  Sir  Valentine  moved 
not,  lifted  not  his  head,  opened  not  his  eyes.  Only 
his  regular  breathing,  the  heavy  breathing  of  vinous 
stupor,  was  heard  in  the  room. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst  rose  without  noise. 


196  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  He  will  not  be  in  riding  mood  for  ten  hours  to 
come,"  she  said,  quietly,  to  Francis.  "  An  his  men 
waken  him,  he'll  be  for  calling  them  hard  names,  and 
off  to  sleep  again  !  God-'a'-mercy,  what  an  ocean  of 
wine  hath  he  swallowed  in  three  short  hours  !  Come, 
Francis,  we  may  sleep  with  ease  of  mind  to-night. 
He  is  stayed  beyond  even  the  will  to  go  on.  And 
I  thank  heaven,  for  I  am  well-nigh  as  drowsy, 
and  as  loath  to  ride  in  this  weather,  as  he  must 
be!" 

It  was  sleepily  indeed  that  she  stepped,  with  as 
little  sound  as  could  be,  over  the  crackling  rushes 
to  the  door.  To  keep  her  enemy  in  the  drinking 
mood,  and  to  dissemble  her  purpose,  she  had  taken 
an  unusual  quantity  of  wine  herself.  Ladies  did  not 
drink  as  much  in  Elizabeth's  outwardly  decent 
reign  as  they  came  to  drink  a  few  years  later,  under 
Scottish  Jeames,  when,  if  Sir  John  Harrington  lied 
not  in  1606,  those  of  the  court  did  "abandon  their 
sobriety  "  and  were  "  seen  to  roll  about  in  intoxica 
tion."  And  Mistress  Hazlehurst  was  the  last  woman 
in  the  world  to  violate  the  prevalent  seemliness 
under  the  virgin  queen.  But  she  had  sipped  enough 
to  augment  the  languor  induced  by  her  recent  exer 
tions.  She  put  a  hand  upon  the  door-post  to  support 
herself  as  she  approached  it. 

There  was  a  wild,  swift  beating  of  horses'  hoofs  on 
the  road  outside  ;  an  abrupt  stoppage  just  before  the 


WINE   AND   SONG.  1 97 

inn  ;  a  shrill  whistle,  and  this  shout  from  Anthony 
Underhill  : 

"What,  ho!  Halloo,  halloo!" 

Hal  raised  his  head,  and  looked  drowsily  around 
with  blinking  eyes.  There  was  a  noise  overhead  of 
a  heavy  tread,  —  that  of  Captain  Bottle,  responding 
to  the  alarm.  In  a  trice  old  Kit  was  heard  clearing 
the  stairs  at  a  bound,  and  then  seen  dashing  through 
the  passage  and  out  into  the  darkness.  He  had 
unbarred  the  outer  door  with  a  single  movement. 

Hal  stared  inquiringly  at  Mistress  Hazlehurst. 
Her  eyes  had  a  glow  of  confident  expectation.  That 
was  her  blunder. 

Her  look  told  him  all,  —  that  she  had  supped 
with  him,  sung  for  him,  incited  him  to  drink,  in 
order  that  he  might  be  unfit  for  flight  or  action.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  clapped  on  his  hat,  threw  off  his 
tipsiness  with  one  backward  jerk  of  the  shoulders  ; 
was  himself  again,  with  clear  eyes  and  strong,  steady 
limbs. 

"To  horse,  madam,  if  you  would  still  ride  with 
us  !  "  he  cried.  "I  have  some  thirty  miles  or  so  to 
go  to-night !  " 

And  he  strode  past  her,  and  out  after  Kit  Bottle. 

"  'Tis  Barnet's  men,  methinks,  by  the  sound  of 
the  horses  yonder,"  said  Anthony,  composedly,  point 
ing  southward,  as  Hal  rose  into  the  saddle. 

Hal  looked  back  toward  the  open  door  of  the  inn. 


198  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

In  a  moment  Anne  came  out  with  Francis,  who 
ran  at  once  to  the  shed  wherein  her  horses  were. 

In  the  doorway  between  parlor  and  passage  she 
had  undergone  a  moment  of  sickening  chagrin.  Not 
only  had  she  failed  ridiculously  a  second  time,  but 
she  must  now  abandon  her  clutch  upon  her  enemy, 
or  face  with  him  that  thirty  miles  of  night  ride  in 
biting  weather  !  Francis  looked  at  her  for  commands. 
She  tightened  her  lips  again,  imitated  Hal's  own 
motion  of  casting  away  lassitude,  drew  her  cloak 
close  around  her,  put  up  her  hood,  and  hastened  out 
to  the  windy  night. 

Hal  made  great  stir  with  his  horses  before  mov 
ing  off,  that  the  inn  people  might  be  awakened  and 
some  of  them  note  which  road  he  took.  This  pre 
caution,  used  for  the  benefit  of  Roger  Barnet,  gave 
Anne  time  to  join  Hal's  party. 

When  the  pursuivant  and  his  fellows  rode  up, 
soon  afterward,  on  half  dead  horses,  that  stumbled 
before  the  inn,  the  fugitives  were  well  forward  on 
the  Nottingham  road.  It  was  a  bitter,  black  night. 

"  Fellow  travellers  still  !  "  quoth  Master  Marryott, 
to  the  dark  figure  that  rode  galloping,  with  flying 
cloak,  beside  him. 

"  And  shall  be  till  I  see  you  caught,  though  I 
must  ride  sleepless  till  I  Irop !  "  was  the  reply. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    CONSTABLE    OF    CLOWN. 

"  I  am  a  wise  fellow  ;  and,  which  is  more,  an  officer ;  .  .  .  and  one  that  knows  the 
law,  go  to."  — Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

IT  was  one  hour  after  midnight,  when  the  fellow 
travellers  left  the  lone  inn  near  the  Newark  cross 
road.  They  had  arrived  there  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  During  their  stay,  Hal  had  obtained  no 
sleep  but  that  which  he  had  taken  at  the  table,  and 
which  had  lasted  but  a  few  minutes.  Anne  had 
slept  perhaps  an  hour  before  going  down  to  the  par 
lor.  The  reader  will  remember  the  fatigued  condi 
tion  in  which  both  had  come  to  the  inn.  Their  next 
rest  could  not  be  had  until  a  long  and  hard  ride  should 
achieve  for  them  a  probable  gain  of  some  hours  over 
the  horsemen  whom  Anthony  Underhill  had  heard. 
For  this  gain,  Hal  counted  on  the  fact  that  Barnet's 
horses,  more  recently  ridden,  could  not  be  as  fresh 
as  his  own,  and  on  Barnet's  constant  necessity  of 
pausing  at  each  branching  of  the  road,  to  make  in 
quiries.  Such  were  the  conditions  under  which  the 
second  full  day  of  the  flight  began. 

199 


2OO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

It  was  now  a  time  for  drawing  on  that  reserved 
energy  which  manifests  itself  only  in  seasons  of 
strait.  Hal  was  aware,  from  past  experience,  of  this 
stored-up  stock  of  endurance,  that  serves  its  possessor 
on  occasions  of  extremity.  To  Anne,  its  existence 
within  her  must  have  come  as  a  new  disclosure. 
Hal,  as  a  man  of  gentle  rearing,  had  for  her  a  man's 
compassion  for  a  woman  to  whom  this  discovery  is 
made  by  hardship  undergone  for  the  first  time.  And 
yet,  so  does  human  nature  abound  in  apparent  con 
tradictions,  he  had  a  kind  of  satisfaction,  almost  glee 
ful,  at  the  toils  she  had  brought  upon  herself  by 
attempting  to  overreach  him.  For,  had  she  used  in 
sleep  the  time  she  had  spent  in  that  attempt,  had  she 
not  taken  sufficient  of  the  wine  to  enervate  herself 
somewhat,  she  would  now  have  been  in  fresh  vigor 
for  the  wearing  ride  before  her. 

The  riders  had  a  slight  check  at  Nottingham, 
owing  to  a  difference  of  opinion  between  Master 
Marryott  and  the  watch,  as  to  the  propriety  of  their 
passing  through  the  town  at  such  an  hour  of  the 
night.  Hal  was  in  instant  readiness  for  any  outcry 
on  the  part  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst.  But  he  looked 
so  resolute,  Kit  Bottle  so  formidable,  Anthony  Under 
bill  so  rigid  with  latent  fighting  force,  that  Anne 
doubtless  saw  little  to  be  gained  from  a  conflict  be 
tween  her  enemy  and  the  unaided  dotards  of  the 
night  watch.  A  gold  piece,  to  reinforce  a  story  ex- 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF   CLOWN.  2OI 

plaining  their  early  riding,  proved  the  magic  opener  it 
commonly  proves,  and  obtained  a  lantern  from  one 
of  the  watchmen,  as  well ;  and  the  fugitives  rode  free, 
northward  into  Sherwood  forest. 

It  was  lone  riding,  and  toilsome,  through  the  green 
wood  where  Robin  Hood  and  his  outlaws  had  made 
merry,  and  past  Newstead  Abbey ;  and  would  have 
been  next  to  impossible  but  for  the  lantern,  with 
which  the  Puritan  lighted  up  a  few  inches  of  the  tree- 
roofed  road  ahead.  Dawn  found  them  near  Mans 
field,  through  which  town  they  soon  after  passed 
without  stay,  and  proceeded  into  Derbyshire. 

At  seven  o'clock,  having  covered  twenty-nine  miles 
in  the  six  hours  since  their  last  setting  out,  and  all 
but  Kit  Bottle  being  ready  to  fall  from  their  saddles, 
they  stopped  before  a  humble  hostelry  at  Scardiff. 

They  could  get  but  one  fresh  horse  here.  Bottle 
took  this  one,  upon  which  to  ride  back  to  a  suitable 
spot  for  watching  the  road  behind.  The  others  of 
the  party  had  to  be  content  with  giving  their  nearly 
used-up  animals  what  rest  might  be  had  in  saddle  and 
bridle,  and  under  a  penthouse  roof  at  one  end  of  the 
inn.  Hal,  before  entering  the  inn,  bought  the  vigi 
lance  of  a  hostler  toward  keeping  his  horses  in  readi 
ness  for  further  going,  and  against  any  attempt  on 
Anne's  part,  through  Francis,  to  disable  them  while 
he  slept  ;  though,  indeed,  he  saw  little  likelihood  of 
her  employing  such  means,  both  she  and  her  page 


202  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

being  in  the  utmost  need  of  immediate  sleep  ;  and 
she  unable  to  purchase  treachery  of  the  inn  folk,  for, 
as  he  observed  when  she  paid  the  hostess  in  advance, 
her  purse  was  now  sadly  fallen  away.  Hal  foresaw, 
from  this  last  circumstance,  two  things  :  a  certainty 
of  her  resorting  soon  to  desperate  measures  against 
him,  and  an  opportunity  for  his  chivalry  to  display 
itself  in  an  offer  to  pay  her  charges  while  she  con 
tinued  with  deadly  purpose  to  accompany  him. 

* 

As  Hal  was  about  to  follow  Anne  into  the  house, 
he  was  greeted  by  a  pleasant-eyed  old  fellow  who  had 
been  sitting  on  a  bench  by  the  door,  with  a  mug  of 
ale  at  his  side  ;  an  old  fellow  whose  frieze  jacket  and 
breeches  proclaimed  a  yeoman,  and  whose  presence 
on  the  outer  bench  on  so  cold  a  morning  betokened 
a  lively  curiosity  as  to  the  doings  of  his  fellow-men. 

"  God  save  your  worship  !  "  said  he,  in  a  mild  little 
voice,  rising  and  bowing  with  great  respect  for  gen 
tility.  "  I  dare  say  your  honor  hasna'  fell  in  with  the 
rascals,  on  your  worship's  travels  ?  " 

Seeing  but  a  rustical  officiousness  and  news-hunger 
in  this  speech,  Hal  paused,  and  asked  : 

"  What  rascals,  goodman  ?  " 

"Them  that  ha'  pestered  travellers,  and  house 
holders,  too,  so  bad  of  late,  on  roads  hereabout. 
Marry,  'tis  well  to  go  in  plenty  company,  when  rob 
bers  ride  in  such  number  together !  They  make 
parlous  wayfaring  for  gentlefolk,  your  worship  !  " 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  2O3 

•'You  mean  that  a  band  of  highway  robbers,  more 
than  common  bold,  hath  been  in  the  neighborhood  ? " 

"Ay,  and  I  would  any  man  might  say  the  rogues 
were  yet  out  of  it  !  They  have  terrified  constables, 
and  the  justices  sleep  over  the  matter,  and  the  sheriff 
hath  his  affairs  elsewhere ;  so  God  look  after  honest 
travellers,  say  I,  sir  !  " 

"  You  say  well,"  replied  Marryott,  casting  a  glance 
at  Anne,  who  also  had  stopped  to  listen  to  the  coun 
tryman's  words.  She  took  from  Hal's  countenance 
a  sense  of  the  further  obligation  she  must  needs  be 
under  for  his  protection,  now  that  a  particular  known 
danger  was  at  hand  ;  but  this  sense  only  moved  her 
to  the  inward  resolve  of  ending  alike  that  obligation 
and  their  northward  travel,  by  some  supreme  effort 
to  entrap  him.  He  read  her  thought  in  her  face, 
and  his  look  defied  her.  She  hastened  to  her  room, 
he  to  his  ;  she,  attended  by  Francis,  he  by  Anthony 
Underbill. 

Marryott  and  Anthony  soon  despatched  the  scant 
meal  brought  to  their  chamber.  Before  placing 
himself  for  sleep,  Harry  looked  into  the  passage. 
The  boy  Francis  was  at  his  customary  post  outside 
his  mistress's  door. 

Hal  and  the  Puritan  were  asleep  before  eight 
o'clock.  At  ten,  Hal  awoke.  After  he  had  glanced 
out  of  the  window,  and  seen  no  one  about  the  inn, 
something  —  he  knew  not  what  —  impelled  him  to 


2O4  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

take  another  view  of  the  passage.  He  did  so  ;  and 
this  time  he  beheld  no  Francis. 

He  awakened  Anthony,  and  the  two  stepped  softly 
into  the  passage.  They  stood  for  an  instant  before 
Mistress  Hazlehurst's  door,  but  heard  no  sound  from 
within.  Down-stairs  they  went,  surveying  the  public 
room  of  the  house  as  they  passed  out  to  the  open  air. 
The  room  was  empty.  They  .hastened  to  the  shed 
where  the  horses  were.  The  horses  were  now  but 
two,  —  Marry ott's  and  Anthony's.  Those  of  Mis 
tress  Hazlehurst  and  her  page  were  gone. 

With  Hal's  quick  feeling  of  alarm,  there  came  also 
a  chilling  sense  of  sudden  loneliness.  A  void  seemed 
to  have  opened  around  him. 

"  The  devil  !  "  was  all  that  he  could  say. 

"  She  cannot  have  given  up,  and  gone  back,"  vol 
unteered  Anthony.  "  She  would  have  had  to  pass 
your  man  Bottle,  and  he  would  have  ridden  hither  to 
tell  you  she  was  stirring." 

"Ay,  'tis  plain  enough  she  hath  not  fled  south 
ward,  where  Kit  keeps  watch  for  Barnet's  men.  She 
hath  ridden  forward  !  Ho,  John  Ostler,  a  murrain 
on  you  !  "  cried  Hal.  "  The  lady  —  whither  hath  she 
gone,  and  when  ?  Speak  out,  or  'twill  fare  hard  with 
you  !  " 

"  'Twas  but  your  own  two  beasts  your  honor  bade 
me  guard,"  said  the  hostler,  coming  from  the  stables. 
"  As  for  the  lady,  her  and  the  lad  went  that  way,  an 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  2O5 

hour  since  or  so  !  "  And  the  fellow  pointed  north 
ward. 

"  Haste,  Anthony  !  "  muttered  Hal,  untying  his 
own  horse.  "  Ride  yonder  for  Kit  Bottle,  and 
then  you  and  he  gallop  after  me !  She  hath  gone 
to  raise  the  country  ahead  of  us  !  Failure  of  other 
means  hath  pushed  her  to  belie  her  declaration." 

"  A  woman's  declaration  needeth  little  pushing, 
to  be  o'erthrown,"  commented  Anthony,  sagely,  as 
he  mounted. 

"  Tut,  knave,  'tis  a  woman's  privilege  to  renounce 
her  word  !  "  replied  Master  Marryott,  sharply,  having 
already  leaped  to  saddle. 

"  It  may  be  so ;  I  know  not,"  said  Anthony,  with 
sour  indifference;  and  the  two  made  for  the  road 
together. 

"  Well,  see  that  Kit  and  you  follow  speedily,  while 
I  fly  forward  to  stay  that  lady,  lest  we  be  caught 
'twixt  Barnet's  men  behind  us,  and  a  hue  and  cry  in 
front !  "  Whereupon,  without  more  ado,  Hal  spurred 
his  horse  in  the  direction  that  Anne  had  taken,  while 
Anthony  turned  southward  in  quest  of  Bottle. 

As  Hal  sped  along,  he  did  not  dare  confess  which 
of  the  two  motives  more  fed  his  anxious  impatience : 
solicitude  for  his  own  cause,  or  fear  that  Anne  might 
meet  danger  on  the  road,  —  for  he  recalled  what  the 
countryman  had  told  him  of  highway  robbers  infest 
ing  the  neighborhood. 


2O6  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

He  put  four  miles  behind  him,  neither  winning 
glimpse  of  her  nor  being  overtaken  by  Kit  and 
Anthony.  Seeking  naught  in  the  forward  distance 
but  her  figure  — -  now  so  distinct  in  his  imagination, 
so  painfully  absent  from  his  real  vision,  —  he  paid  no 
heed,  until  he  had  galloped  into  the  very  midst  of 
it,  to  a  numerous  crowd  of  heavy-shod  countrymen 
that  lined  both  sides  of  the  road  at  the  entrance  to 
the  village  of  Clown. 

So  impetuous  had  been  Hal's  forward  movement, 
so  complete  the  possession  of  his  mind  by  the  one 
image,  that  he  had  seen  this  village  assemblage  with 
dull  eyes,  and  with  no  sense  of  its  possibly  having 
anything  to  do  with  himself ;  yet  it  was  just  such  a 
gathering  that  he  ought  to  have  expected,  and  against 
which  he  ought  to  have  been  on  his  guard.  Not 
until  it  closed  about  him,  not  until  a  huge  loutish 
fellow  caught  the  rein  of  his  suddenly  impeded  horse, 
and  a  pair  of  rustics  drew  across  the  road  —  from  a 
side  lane  —  a  clumsy  covered  coach  that  wholly 
blocked  the  way,  and  a  little  old  man  on  the  edge 
of  the  crowd  brandished  a  rusty  bill  and  called  out  in 
a  squeaky  voice,  "  Surrender  !  "  did  Hal  realize  that 
he  had  ridden  right  into  the  hands  of  a  force  hastily 
gathered  by  the  village  constable  to  waylay  and  take 
him  prisoner. 

Hal  clapped  hand  to  sword-hilt,  and  surveyed  the 
crowd  with  a  sweeping  glance.  The  constable  had 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  2O/ 

evidently  brought  out  every  able-bodied  man  in  the 
near  neighborhood.  Three  or  four  were  armed  with 
long  bills,  hooked  and  pointed,  like  that  borne  by  the 
constable  himself.  Others  carried  stout  staves.  Em 
boldened  by  the  examp-le  of  the  giant  who  had  seized 
Hal's  rein,  the  clowns  pressed  close  around  his  horse. 
Ere  Hal  could  draw  sword,  his  wrist  was  caught  in 
the  iron  grasp  of  one  of  the  giant's  great  brown 
paws.  Two  other  burly  villagers  laid  hold  of  his 
pistols.  With  his  free  hand,  Hal  tried  to  back  his 
horse  out  of  the  press,  but  was  prevented  both  by 
the  throng  behind  and  by  the  big  fellow's  gripe  of  the 
rein.  Marryott  thereupon  flashed  out  his  dagger, 
and  essayed  to  use  it  upon  the  hand  that  imprisoned 
his  wrist.  But  his  arm  was  caught,  in  the  elbow 
crook,  by  the  hook  of  a  bill  that  a  yeoman  wielded  in 
the  nick  of  time.  The  next  instant,  a  heavy  blow 
from  a  stave  struck  the  dagger  from  Hal's  hand. 
His  legs  were  seized,  and  he  was  a  captured  man. 

All  this  had  occurred  in  short  time,  during  the 
plunging  of  Hal's  horse  and  the  shouting  of  the  crowd. 
It  had  been  a  vastly  different  matter  from  the  night 
encounter  with  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  servants.  These 
yokels  of  Clown,  assembled  in  large  number,  led  by 
the  parish  Hercules,  bearing  the  homely  weapons  to 
which  they  were  used,  opposing  afoot  and  by  day 
light  a  solitary  mounted  man  to  whom  their  attack 
was  a  complete  surprise,  were  a  force  from  whom 


2O8  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

defeat  was  no  disgrace.  Yet  never  did  Master 
Marryott  know  keener  rage,  humiliation,  and  self- 
reproach  —  self-reproach  for  his  heedless  precipi 
tancy,  and  his  having  ridden  on  without  his  two 
men  —  than  when  he  found  himself  captive  to  these 
rustics  ;  save  when,  a  moment  later,  his  glance  met 
an  open  casement  of  an  ale-house  at  one  side  of  the 
road,  and  he  saw  Anne  Hazlehurst !  Her  look  was 
one  of  triumph  ;  her  smile  like  that  with  which  he  had 
greeted  her  after  the  incident  of  the  locked  door  at 
Oakham.  And,  for  the  space  of  that  moment,  he 
hated  her. 

"  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,"  cried  the  constable, 
in  his  senile  squeak,  pushing  his  way  with  a  sudden 
access  of  pomposity  from  his  place  at  the  crowd's 
edge,  "  I  apprehend  you  for  high  treason,  and  charge 
you  to  get  down  from  your  horse  and  come  peaceably 
to  the  justice's  house." 

"Justice's  house!"  cried  Hal,  most  wrathfully. 
"  Of  what  do  you  prate,  old  fool  ?  What  have  I  to 
do  with  scurvy,  rustical  justices  ?  " 

"  To  Justice  Loudwight's,  your  honor,"  replied 
the  constable,  suddenly  tamed  by  Hal's  high  and 
mighty  tone.  "  In  good  sooth,  his  house  is  pleasant 
lodging,  even  for  a  knight,  or  lord  either,  and  his 
table  and  wine  —  " 

"  Devil  take  Justice  Loudwight's  table  and  wine, 
and  a  black  murrain  take  yourself ! "  broke  in  Hal, 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  2OQ 

from  his  horse.  "  Give  me  my  weapons,  and  let  me 
pass !  What  foolery  is  this,  you  rogue,  to  hinder 
one  of  her  Majesty's  subjects  travelling  on  weighty 
business  ? " 

"  Nay,  sir,  I  know  my  duty,  and  Mr.  Loudwight 
shall  judge.  I  must  hold  you  till  he  come  back  from 
Chesterfield,  whither  he  hath  gone  to  — 

"  I  care  not  wherefore  Mr.  Loudwight  hath  gone 
to  Chesterfield,  or  if  every  other  country  wight  in 
Derbyshire  hath  gone  to  visit  the  foul  fiend !  Nor 
can  I  tarry  for  their  coming  back,"  quoth  Hal,  truly 
enough,  for  such  tarrying  meant  his  detention  for  the 
arrival  of  Roger  Barnet.  "  Let  me  pass  on,  or  this 
place  shall  rue  this  day  !  " 

"I  be  the  constable,  and  I  know  my  duty,  and 
I  must  apprehend  all  flying  traitors,  whether  they  be 
traitors  or  no,  which  is  a  matter  for  my  betters  in  the 
law  to  give  judgment  on." 

The  constable's  manner  showed  a  desire  to  prove 
himself  an  authoritative  personage,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
community  and  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst.  He  was  a 
quailing  old  fellow,  who  pretended  boldness  ;  a  simple 
soul,  who  affected  shrewdness. 

"  Know  your  duty,  say  you  ?  "  quoth  Hal.  "  Were 
that  so,  you  would  know  a  constable  may  not  hold  a 
gentleman  without  a  warrant.  Where  is  your  writ  ?  " 

"Talk  not  of  warrants  !  I'll  have  warrants  enough 
when  Justice  Loudwight  cometh  home.  Though  I 


2IO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

have  no  warrant  yet,  I  have  information,"  and  the 
constable  glanced  at  the  window  from  which  Anne 
looked  down  at  the  scene. 

Hal  thought  of  the  surely  fatal  consequences  of 
his  remaining  in  custody  till  either  Justice  Loud- 
wight  should  come  home  or  Roger  Barnet  arrive. 
His  heart  sank.  True,  Kit  Bottle  and  Anthony 
Underhill  might  appear  at  any  moment ;  but  their 
two  swords,  unaided  by  his  own,  would  scarce  avail 
against  the  whole  village  toward  effecting  a  rescue. 
He  pondered  a  second  ;  then  spoke  thus  : 

"  Look  you,  Master  Constable !  You  have  infor 
mation.  Well,  information  is  but  information.  Mine 
affairs  so  press  me  onward  that  I  may  not  wait  to  be 
judged  of  your  Mr.  Loud  wight.  Hear  you,  there 
fore,  the  charge  against  me,  and  mine  answer  to't. 
While  the  justice  is  away,  is  not  the  constable  the 
main  pillar  of  the  law  ?  And  shall  not  a  constable 
judge  of  information  that  cometh  to  him  first  ?  Ods- 
light,  'tis  a  pretty  pass  when  one  may  say  this-and- 
that  into  the  ears  of  a  constable,  and  bid  him  act 
upon  it  as  'twere  heaven's  truth  !  Hath  he  no  mind 
of  his  own,  by  which  he  may  judge  of  information  ? 
If  he  have  authority  to  receive  information,  hath  he 
not  authority  to  receive  denial  of  it,  and  to  render 
opinion  'twixt  the  two  ?  " 

The  constable,  flattered  and  magnified  —  he  knew 
not  exactly  why  —  by  Hal's  words  and  mien,  ex- 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  211 

panded  and  looked  profound  ;  then  answered,  with 
a  sage,  approving  nod  : 

"  There  is  much  law  and  equity  in  what  you  say, 
sir  !  " 

Quick  to  improve  the  situation,  Hal  instantly 
added  : 

"Then  face  me  with  your  informer,  Master  Con 
stable,  and  judge  lawfully  between  us  !  " 

"  Bring  this  worshipful  prisoner  before  me  !  "  com 
manded  the  constable,  addressing  the  giant  and  the 
others  in  possession  of  Hal's  horse,  legs,  and  weapons  ; 
and  thereupon  walked,  with  great  authority,  into  the 
ale-house.  Hal  was  promptly  pulled  from  his  saddle, 
and  led  after  him.  The  constabulary  presence  estab 
lished  itself  behind  a  table  at  one  side  of  the  public 
room.  The  giant  and  another  fellow  held  Hal,  while 
a  third  tied  his  hands  behind  with  a  rope. 

The  villagcry  crowded  into  the  room,  pushing  Hal 
almost  against  the  constable's  table.  But,  after  a 
moment,  the  crowd  parted ;  for  Anne  Hazlehurst, 
having  witnessed  the  course  of  events  from  her 
window,  had  come  clown-stairs  without  being  sum 
moned,  and  she  now  moved  forward  to  Hal's  side, 
closely  followed  by  Francis.  Meanwhile,  at  the 
constable's  order,  a  gawkish  stripling,  whose  looks 
betokened  an  underdone  pedagogue,  took  a  seat  at 
the  table's  end,  with  writing  materials  which  the 
officer  of  the  peace  had  commanded  from  the  ale- 


212  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

house  keeper  in  order  to  give  an  imposing  legal 
aspect  to  the  proceedings. 

"  Now,  sir,"  began  the  constable,  with  his  best 
copy  of  a  judicial  frown,  "there  is  here  to  be  exam 
ined  a  question  of  whether  this  offender  be  in  truth 
a  pursued  traitor  — 

"Pardon  me,  Master  Constable,"  objected  Hal. 
"  Sith  it  is  questionable  whether  I  be  that  traitor, 
I  may  not  yet  be  called  an  offender." 

"Sir,"  replied  the  constable,  taking  on  severity 
from  the  presence  of  Anne,  "leave  these  matters  to 
them  that  stand  for  the  laws.  Offender  you  are,  and 
that's  certain,  having  done  offence  in  that  you  did 
resist  apprehension." 

"  Nay,  if  I  be  the  pursued  traitor  I  am  charged 
with  being,"  said  Hal,  "then  might  that  apprehen 
sion  have  been  proper,  and  I  might  stand  guilty  of 
resistance ;  but  if  I  be  no  such  traitor,  the  apprehen 
sion  was  but  the  molesting  of  a  true  subject  of  the 
queen,  and  my  resistance  was  but  a  self-defence,  and 
the  offence  was  of  them  that  stayed  me." 

The  constable  began  to  fear  he  was  in  deep 
waters  ;  so  cleared  his  throat  for  time,  and  at  last 
proceeded  : 

"  There  is  much  can  be  said  thereon,  and  if  it  be 
exhibited  that  there  was  resistance,  then  be  sure  jus 
tice  will  be  rendered.  If  it  be  proven  you  are  no 
traitor,  then  perhaps  it  shall  follow  that  there  was 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  -iij 

no  resistance.  But  yet  I  say  not  so  for  certain. 
What  is  your  name,  sir?" 

Before  Hal  could  answer,  Mistress  Hazlehurst 
put  in  : 

"  His  name  is  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,  and  he  is 
flying  from  a  warrant  — 

"  Write  down  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,"  said  the 
constable,  in  an  undertone,  to  the  youth  with  quill, 
ink-horn,  and  paper. 

"  Write  down  no  such  name  !  "  cried  Hal.  "  Write 
down  Harry  Marryott,  gentleman,  of  the  lord  cham 
berlain's  company  of  players ! "  And  Hal  faced 
Anne,  with  a  look  of  defiance.  Ere  any  one  could 
speak,  he  went  on,  "  This  lady,  whom  I  take  to  be 
your  informer,  will  confess  that,  if  I  be  not  Sir  Val 
entine  Fleetwood,  I  am  not  the  person  she  doth 
accuse." 

During  the  silence  of  the  assemblage,  Anne 
regarded  Hal  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  as  if  she 
thought  his  device  to  escape  detention  as  shallow 
and  foolish  as  had  been  her  own  first  attempt  to 
hinder  him. 

"  What  name  shall  I  put  down  ?  "  asked  the  puzzled 
scribe,  of  the  constable. 

"  Write  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  !  "  repeated  Anne, 
peremptorily.  "This  gentleman's  sorry  shift  to 
evade  you,  Master  Constable,  is  scarce  worthy  of 
his  birth'." 


214  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"Write  down  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,"  ordered 
the  constable.  "  Is  not  this  the  examination  of  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood,  and  whose  name  else —  ?  " 

"  If  it  be  the  examination  of  Sir  Valentine  Fleet- 
wood,"  interrupted  Hal,  "  then  'tis  not  my  examina 
tion,  and  I  demand  of  you  my  liberty  forthwith  ; 
for  I  do  not  acknowledge  that  name !  I  warn  you, 
constable  !  " 

Taken  aback  by  Hal's  threatening  tone,  the 
constable  looked  irresolute,  and  glanced  from  Hal 
to  Anne  and  back  again. 

Mistress  Plazlehurst  opened  her  eyes  in  a  mix 
ture  of  amazement  and  alarm,  as  if  it  might  in 
deed  be  possible  that  her  enemy's  device  should 
have  effect  upon  this  ignorant  rustic.  She  took 
the  supposed  Sir  Valentine's  denial  of  that  name 
to  be  a  pitiful  lie,  employed  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  It  was  not  less  important  to  Hal  that 
she  should  so  take  it,  than  it  was  that  the  con 
stable  should  receive  it  as  truth  ;  and  he  now  had 
to  wear  toward  the  officer  a  manner  of  veracity, 
and  toward  Anne  the  mien  of  a  ready  and  brazen- 
liar.  This  could  not  but  make  her  loathe  him  the 
more,  and  it  went  against  him  to  assume  it.  But 
in  his  mind  he  could  hear  the  steady  hoof-beats  of 
Roger  Barnet's  horses  coming  up  from  the  south, 
and  so  he  must  stick  firmly  to  the  truth  which 
made  him  in  her  eyes  a  liar. 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  215 

Her  momentary  look  of  alarm  died  away  as  the 
constable  continued  to  gaze  in  stupid  indecision. 
She  waited  for  others  to  speak  ;  she  had  no  inter 
est  in  hastening  matters ;  her  hopes  were  served 
by  every  minute  of  delay.  But  Hal's  case  was  the 
reverse. 

"Well,  man,"  he  said,  to  the  slow-thinking  con 
stable,  "  I  am  here  to  answer  to  any  charge  made 
against  me  in  mine  own  name.  If  you  have  aught 
to  say  concerning  Mr.  Harry  Marryott,  of  the 
lord  chamberlain's  players,  set  it  forth,  for  I  am 
in  haste.  I  swear  to  you,  by  God's  name,  and 
on  the  cross  of  my  sword  if  yon  fellow  hand  it 
back  to  me,  that  I  am  not  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood, 
and  that  there  is  no  warrant  for  my  apprehen 
sion  ! " 

"Perjurer!"  cried  Anne,  with  scorn  and  indig 
nation. 

"Nay,  madam,"  quoth  the  constable,  somewhat 
impressed  by  Hal's  declaration,  "  an  oath  is  an 
oath.  There  be  the  laws  of  evidence  — 

"Then  hear  my  oath  !  "  she  broke  in.  "I  swear, 
before  God,  this  gentleman  is  he  that  the  royal 
officers  are  in  pursuit  of,  with  proper  warrant,  —  as 
you  shall  soon  know,  when  they  come  hither !  " 

The  constable  sat  in  bewilderment  ;  frowned, 
gulped,  and  hemmed  ;  gazed  at  Hal,  at  Anne,  at  the 
table  before  him,  and  into  the  open  mouth  of  the 


2l6  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

lean  clerk,  who  waited  for  something  to  write  down. 
At  last  he  squeaked  : 

"  Tis  but  oath  against  oath  —  a  fair  balance." 

"Then  take  the  oath  of  my  page,"  said  Anne, 
quickly,  drawing  Francis  forward.  "  He  will  swear 
this  is  the  gentleman  of  whom  I  told  you." 

"That  I  do,"  quoth  Francis,  sturdily,  "upon  this 
cross  !  "  And  he  held  aloft  his  dagger-hilt. 

The  constable  heaved -a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and 
looked  upon  Hal  with  an  eased  countenance. 

"The  weight  of  evidence  convicts  you,  sir,"  he 
said.  "  Let  the  name  of  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood 
be  taken  down,  and  then  his  oath,  and  then  the 
names 'of  these  two  swearers,  and  their  two  oaths  — 

"  Stay  a  moment,  Master  Constable  !  "  cried  Hal, 
his  eye  suddenly  caught  by  the  dismounting  of  two 
men  from  horseback,  outside  the  ale-house  window, 
which  had  been  opened  to  let  fresh  air  in  upon  the 
crowd.  "There  be  other  oaths  to  take  down!  Ho, 
Kit  Bottle,  and  Anthony,  tie  your  horses  and  come 
hither !  Nay,  gripe  not  your  swords  !  Let  there  be 
no  breach  of  the  peace.  But  hasten  in  !  " 

The  general  attention  fell  upon  the  newcomers,  who 
had  ridden  hotly.  With  a  dauntless  air  Kit  Bottle 
strode  through  the  crowd,  handling  men  roughly  to 
make  a  way,  and  followed  close  by  Anthony. 

"What  a  murrain  hath  befallen  —  ?"  Kit  was 
beginning  ;  but  Hal  stopped  him  with  : 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF   CLOWN. 

"  No  time  for  words !  Captain  Bottle,  you  and 
worthy  Master  Underbill,  testify  to  this  officer  my 
name,  the  name  half  London  knows  me  by  as  a 
player  of  the  lord  chamberlain's  company !  This 
lady  will  have  it  I  am  one  Sir  Valentine  Fleet- 
wood.  Speak  my  true  name,  therefore,  upon  your 
oath.'1 

Hal  had  said  enough  to  inform  both  Kit  and 
Anthony  what  name  was  wanted  on  this  occasion, 
and  the  captain  instantly  answered  : 

"  I  will  swear  to  this  officer  —  an  thou  call'st  him 
such  —  and  maintain  it  with  my  sword  against  any 
man  in  England,  that  thou  art  no  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood,  but  art  Master  Harry  Marryott,  and 
none  other,  of  the  lord  chamberlain's  servants  !  " 

"  Tis  the  simple  truth,"  said  Anthony  Underbill, 
glowering  coldly  upon  the  constable.  "  I  will  take 
oath  thereto." 

The  constable  held  up  three  fingers  of  one  hand, 
on  Hal's  side,  and  two  fingers  of  the  other  hand,  on 
Anne's  side,  and  said  to  her  : 

"  Mistress,  here  be  three  oaths  against  two ; 
thou'rt  clearly  outsworn  !  " 

"Perjurers!"  said  Anne,  facing  Master  Marryott 
and  his  men. 

"  Nay,  nay,  madam !  "  quoth  the  constable,  be 
coming  severe  on  the  victorious  side.  "  An  there 
be  charge  of  perjury  in  the  case,  look  to  thyself! 


2l8  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Since  these  three  have  sworn  truly,  it  followeth  that 
thy  two  oaths  be  false  oaths  !  " 

"  Rascal !  "  cried  Hal.  "  Do  you  dare  accuse  this 
lady  of  false  swearing  ?  " 

"  Why,  why,  surely  your  three  oaths  be  true  — 

"  True  they  are,  and  see  you  to't  my  horse  and 
weapons  be  rendered  up  to  me  straightways  !  But 
this  lady  swore  what  she  thought  true.  She  had 
good  reason  for  so  thinking,  and  village  rogues 
would  best  use  fair  words  to  her !  " 

He  cast  a  side-glance  at  Anne,  as  he  finished 
speaking ;  but  at  that  instant  she  turned  her  back 
upon  him,  and  went  from  the  room,  as  swiftly  as  the 
crowd  could  let  her.  Hal,  perforce,  stayed  to  be 
unbound  by  the  rustics  that  had  held  him.  At  the 
further  orders  of  the  constable,  who  speedily  dwindled 
into  obsequious  nothingness  under  the  swaggering 
disdain  of  Captain  Bottle,  Hal's  weapons  were  re 
stored  to  him.  When  he  went  out  to  the  road,  he 
found  his  horse  ready,  with  Kit's  and  Anthony's. 
The  huge  coach,  recently  used  by  the  rustics  to 
obstruct  the  way,  had  been  moved  back  into  the 
lane.  Hal  remarked  aloud  upon  this,  as  he  made 
ready  to  mount. 

"  Ay,  your  worship,"  said  a  villager,  who  had  over 
heard  him,  "we  opened  the  way  again,  when  the 
lady  rode  off  a  minute  ago." 

"  The  lady !  "   cried    Hal,  and  exchanged  a  blank 


THE    CONSTABLE    OF  CLOWN.  2 19 

look  with  Kit  and  Anthony.  He  had  lost  sight  of 
ner,  while  being  released  and  repossessed  of  his 
weapons.  "A  plague  on  my  dull  wits!"  he  added, 
for  the  ears  of  his  two  men  alone.  "  She  hath  gone 
to  try  the  same  game  in  the  next  parish,  and  fortune 
will  scarce  favor  me  with  such  another  choice  organ 
of  the  law  as  this  constable  !  " 

Meanwhile,  in  the  ale-house,  the  constable,  after 
some  meditation,  called  for  ale  to  be  brought  to  the 
table  at  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  said,  thought 
fully,  to  his  ally  of  the  pen  and  inkhorn  : 

"  Thou  mayst  tear  what  thou  hast  taken  down  of 
the  examination,  William." 

And  William,  muddled  by  participation  in  the 
recent  rush  of  events,  absently  tore  to  pieces  his 
sheet  of  paper,  on  which  he  had  written  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    PRISONER    IN    THE    COACH. 
"  It  smites  my  heart  to  deal  ungently  with  thee,  lady." —  The  Fair  Immured. 

"  SHE  is  like  to  find  some  magistrate  of  knowledge 
and  resources  next  time  !  "  continued  Hal,  alluding 
to  Anne.  "  Well,  there's  naught  to  do  but  ride 
after  her !  " 

"  But  what  then  ?  "  put  in  Kit.  "  What  shall 
hinder  her  from  crying  out?" 

Hal,  just  mounted,  happened  to  glance  at  the 
coach  in  the  lane.  He  had,  in  one  moment,  a  swift 
series  of  thoughts. 

"Would  that  a  dozen  horses  were  to  be  had!" 
quoth  he. 

"Why,  now,"  said  Kit,  "here  come  a  score  of 
horses,  but  with  men  upon  their  backs." 

Hal  turned  a  startled  look  southward.  No,  the 
riders  were  not  Barnet's  men  ;  they  rode  together  in 
too  great  disorder.  Something  impelled  Hal  to  wait 
their  coming  up.  In  a  few  minutes  it  could  be  seen 
that  they  were  a  diverse  company,  some  bravely 


THE  PRISONER  IN  THE  COACH.      221 

dressed,  some  raggedly,  some  in  both  bravery  and 
rags  at  once.  Some  had  reckless  faces,  some  un 
easy,  some  stealthy,  some  sheepish.  Their  leader, 
a  tall  man,  who  would  have  been  handsome  but  for 
his  low  brow  and  an  inequality  between  the  two 
halves  of  his  visage,  looked  a  mixture  of  insolent 
boldness  and  knavish  servility. 

"Why,  God's  body!"  ejaculated  Kit  Bottle,  with 
sudden  astonishment  and  gladness.  "  'Tis  that  same 
rascal,  the  very  rogue  himself,  and  none  else !  I  had 
thought  we  might  fall  in  with  him  hereabouts !  " 

"Of  whom  speak  you?"  asked  Hal,  curtly. 

"Of  that  villain  Rumney,  —  mine  old  comrade 
that  turned  robber ;  him  I  once  told  you  of.  Ho, 
Rumney,  thou  counterfeit  captain !  Well  met,  thou 
rogue,  says  Kit  Bottle  !  " 

And  while  the  one  "  captain  "  rode  out  to  welcome 
the  other,  Hal  remembered  what  the  yeoman  at 
Scardiff  had  told  him  of  the  highway  robbers  ;  he 
scanned  the  villainous  faces  of  these  men,  and  was 
thankful  in  his  heart  that  Anne  Hazlehurst  had  not 
ridden  their  way  ;  and  then  he  thought  of  her  on  the 
road  ahead,  and  looked  again  at  the  coach,  and  at 
the  horses  of  the  newcomers. 

By  the  time  the  two  former  companions  in  arms 
had  finished  their  first  salutations,  Hal  had  formed 
his  plan.  He  called  Kit  back  to  him,  and  said  : 

"  If  thy  friend  hath  a  mind  to  put  himself  and  his 


A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

company  in  my  service  for  three  days,  there  shall  be 
fair  pay  forthcoming." 

"  I  know  not  how  Rumney  will  take  to  honest 
service,"  replied  Kit,  doubtfully.  "  But  leave  the 
handling  of  the  matter  to  me  —  and  the  fixing  of  the 
pay,  too."  And  he  rode  back  to  the  robber  captain, 
who  with  his  band  had  remained  awaiting  Kit's  re 
turn  at  the  place  where  they  had  stopped,  some 
distance  from  Hal  and  Anthony.  The  villagers, 
now  joined  by  the  constable  himself,  stood  gaping 
before  the  ale-house,  exchanging  a  curious  inspection 
with  the  questionable-looking  newcomers. 

Kit  and  Captain  Rumney  whispered  together  for  a 
long  time,  gravely  and  mysteriously.  Rumney  was 
at  first  of  a  frowning  and  holding-off  disposition  ; 
looked  askance  at  Hal  several  times,  and  shook  his 
head  skeptically,  as  if  he  could  see  no  advantage  in 
what  was  proposed.  Kit,  as  his  face  and  gestures 
showed,  waxed  eloquent  and  urgent.  There  were 
moments  when  wrathful  looks  and  words  passed 
between  the  two,  and  old  matters  were  raked  up, 
and  recriminations  cast.  But  in  the  end,  Rumney 
showed  a  yielding  countenance,  and  Kit  came  back 
to  Hal  in  triumph.  The  rate  of  hire  being  within 
Hal's  limits,  the  robber  captain  rode  up,  at  Kit's 
motion,  and  was  introduced  to  Hal  as  to  Sir  Valen 
tine  Fleetwood. 

Hal,  on  viewing  this  new  ally  more  closely,  men- 


THE   PRISONER   IN   THE    COACH.  22$ 

tally  set  him  down  as  good  for  two  or  three  days' 
fidelity  if  tactfully  dealt  with.  Rumney,  on  his  part, 
looked  Hal  over  searchingly,  with  half  closed  gray 
eyes,  as  if  to  see  what  might  be  made  out  of  him. 
The  rascal  had  a  fawning  manner  that  might  become 
insolent,  or  threatening,  or  cruel,  upon  the  least 
occasion. 

Rumney  now  went  back  to  his  men,  and  briefly 
acquainted  them  with  what  he  had  done,  —  a  dis 
closure  whose  only  outward  effect  was  to  make  them 
gaze  with  a  little  more  interest  at  Master  Marryott. 
At  this  time,  Hal  was  questioning  the  constable 
regarding  the  coach.  He  learned  that,  when  bogged 
in  mire  during  a  prolonged  rain,  it  had  been  aban 
doned  by  its  former  owners,  who  had  taken  to  horse 
back  and  left  it  with  the  ale-house  keeper  in  lieu  of 
other  payment  of  a  large  score  run  up  while  they 
were  storm-stayed.  Hal  promptly  bought  it  from  the 
landlord,  with  what  harness  belonged  to  it,  and  with 
all  the  carriers'  gear  that  remained  about  the  stables. 

At  Hal's  order,  Rumney  now  had  his  men  hitch 
their  horses  to  the  great  vehicle,  and  thereupon 
remount,  so  that  the  animals  might  serve  at  once  to 
bear  and  to  draw.  Master  Marryott  put  Kit  Bottle 
in  charge  of  the  robbers  and  the  coach,  with  instruc 
tions  to  follow  at  the  best  possible  speed,  and  then 
spurred  off,  with  Anthony  Underbill,  in  hope  of 
overtaking  Mistress  Hazlehurst, 


224  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYED. 

It  was  his  intention  to  catch  her  if  he  could  do  so 
without  entering  any  inhabited  place  or  putting  him 
self  at  risk  of  a  second  capture.  Should  he  find 
himself  approaching  any  such  place  or  risk,  he  would 
wait  for,  or  return  to,  Kit  and  the  robbers.  With 
his  so  greatly  augmented  force  of  fighting  men,  he 
could  overawe  or  rout  such  a  crowd  as  he  had  met  at 
Clown ;  and,  should  the  necessity  arise,  he  might 
even  offer  a  hopeful  resistance  to  Roger  Barnet's 
party.  But  against  a  general  hue  and  cry,  or  an 
effectual  marshalling  of  magistrate's  officers  and  ser 
vants,  either  or  both  of  which  Anne  might  cause  in 
front  of  him,  he  could  not  long  contend.  Hence  the 
speed  at  which  he  now  urged  his  horse  in  pursuit  of 
her. 

He  had  ridden  seven  miles  from  Clown,  and  met 
with  no  impediment  in  any  of  the  intermediate  ham 
lets, —  a  fact  which  convinced  him  that  she  would 
not  again  rely  on  such  inferior  agents  of  the  law  as 
she  had  first  fallen  in  with,  —  when  at  a  sharp  turn 
of  the  road  he  suddenly  came  in  sight  of  her.  She 
and  her  page  were  at  a  standstill,  she  mounted,  he 
afoot.  It  was  a  miry  place,  sheltered  by  trees  and 
thickets  from  the  drying  effect  of  sun  and  the 
freezing  effect  of  wind  ;  and  Francis  stood  in  deep 
mud,  examining  the  stone-bruised  forefoot  of  her 
horse. 

"This  is  good  fortune,  madam!"  cried  Hal,  his 


THE   PRISONER   IN  THE    COACH.  22$ 

eyes  sparkling  as  well  with  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
her  as  with  relief  of  mind. 

"  If  it  be  so,  enjoy  it  while  you  may,"  she  answered, 
scorning  his  elation,  "  My  hindrance  here  is  but  for 
a  time." 

"I  know  it  well,  madam,"  replied  Hal,  courteously; 
"for  I,  myself,  have  provided  for  your  going  forward." 

"  You  have  provided  ? "  she  said,  regarding  him 
with  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  mistress  ;  for  look  you  :  if  I  thought  to  send 
you  anywhere  under  escort,  I  could  not  afford  what 
escort  I  might  trust,  or  trust  what  escort  I  might 
afford.  If  I  left  you  here,  without  escort,  you  would 
be  in  danger  from  rogues  and  vagabonds  of  the  road, 
and  you  would  be  free  to  raise  the  country  about 
me,  — as  you  tried  yonder,  and  rode  on  to  try  again. 
If  I  committed  you  to  the  hospitality  of  gentlefolk 
hereabouts,  you  would  have  that  same  freedom. 
Even  though  you  gave  up  your  design  against 
me,  and  would  start  back  for  Hertfordshire  or 
elsewhere  — 

"  No  fear  of  that !  "  she  said,  defiantly. 

"If  there  were  hope  of  it,"  Hal  went  on,  "your 
safety,  and  another  reason,  would  forbid  my  allowing 
it." 

The  other  reason,  which  he  dared  not  tell  her, 
was  this  :  if  permitted  to  return  southward,  she 
might  meet  Roger  Barnet  and  incidentally  give 


226  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

such  description  of  Hal  as  would  beget  a  doubt 
whether,  after  all,  the  right  man  was  being  chased. 

"Therefore,"  concluded  Hal,  who  had  so  opened 
his  mind  to  her  for  his  own  justification,  "it 
behoveth  me  to  take  you  with  me." 

"  To  take  me !  "  said  she,  with  the  emphasis  of 
both  query  and  correction  on  the  verb. 

"  As  a  prisoner,"  added  Hal,  quietly. 

She  looked  at  him  as  a  queen  might  look  at  a 
madman. 

"  I  your  prisoner  !  "  she  said.  "  By  God's  light, 
never !  " 

"  My  prisoner,"  said  Hal,  gently,  "  now  and  for 
three  days  to  come.  Anthony,  look  to  the  boy,  and 
to  his  horse  tied  yonder ;  and  follow  this  lady  and  me 
into  the  woods,  that  we  may  wait  my  men  without 
scrutiny  of  passing  travellers.  Madam,  be  so  good,  I 
pray  you,  to  ride  betwixt  yon  thickets." 

"That  I  will  not !  "  cried  Anne,  with  eyes  afire. 

Hal  waited  for  one  drawing  of  his  breath  ;  then 
rode  to  her  side,  grasped  her  bridle,  and  led  her 
unwilling  horse  after  him  through  the  fairly  clear 
way  that  he  had  pointed  out.  She  showed  herself 
too  amazed  for  action,  and  made  no  resistance  with 
her  hands  ;  but  if  looks  could  have  smitten,  Master 
Marryott  would  have  found  himself  sorely  belabored. 

Hal  stopped  in  the  woods,  within  easy  hearing 
distance  of  the  road.  Anthony,  having  lifted  the 


THE   PRISONER   IN  THE    COACH.  22/ 

small  page  to  his  own  saddle-bow,  disarmed  him  of 
weapons,  and  taken  the  other  horse  in  leading,  came 
after.  When  the  little  group  was  finally  station 
ary  among  the  trees  and  underbrush,  Anne's  face 
betrayed  some  falling  away  of  defiance.  She  looked 
around  in  a  kind  of  momentary  panic,  as  if  she  would 
leap  from  her  horse,  and  flee  afoot.  But  on  every 
side  she  saw  but  dark  pools,  damp  earth,  moist  roots, 
and  brush.  She  gave  a  shiver,  and  stayed  in  her 
saddle. 

"  Have  no  fear,  mistress,"  said  Hal.  "  No  harm 
will  come  to  you.  While  you  go  yieldingly,  no  hand 
shall  touch  you  ;  and  in  any  case,  no  hand  but  mine 
own,  which  is  a  gentleman's." 

"Would  you  dare  use  force  ? "  she  cried,  somewhat 
huskily,  her  eyes  —  half  threatening,  half  intimidated 
—  turned  full  upon  him. 

"  If  I  must,"  said  he,  meeting  her  gaze  with  out 
ward  calmness. 

She  dropped  her  glance,  and  was  silent.  Anthony 
now  placed  Francis  on  the  latter's  own  horse,  but 
kept  a  stern  eye  upon  him,  and  a  firm  hand  upon  his 
bridle.  The  four  sat  perfectly  still,  save  for  the 
restless  movements  of  their  shivering  horses,  in 
the  chill  and  sombre  forest.  No  one  was  heard  to 
pass  in  the  road. 

"  For  what  are  you  waiting  ? "  asked  Anne,  after 
awhile. 


228  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  For  my  men  to  come  up,  with  the  coach  you  are 
to  occupy,"  Hal  replied. 

She  answered  him  with  a  look  of  surprise,  but 
said  nothing. 

After  a  weary  length,  the  tread  of  many  horses 
and  the  noise  of  cumbrous  wheels  was  heard  from 
the  uneven  and  miry  road.  Hal,  retaining  Anne's 
bridle,  and  motioning  Anthony  to  follow,  led  the 
short  but  toilsome  ride  back  to  the  highway.  The 
strange  crew,  headed  by  Kit  Bottle  and  Captain 
Rumney,  came  into  view  around  the  turn.  Losing 
no  time  for  greetings,  Hal  ordered  the  men  to  ride 
on  at  their  best  pace  to  a  dryer  part  of  the  road,  that 
the  coach  might  not  become  fixed  in  the  mire.  This 
was  done,  the  robbers  looking  with  some  curiosity  at 
Anne  as  they  passed.  Hal  and  his  immediate  party 
followed.  At  an  open  place,  where  the  earth  was 
hard,  he  called  a  halt ;  then  dismounted,  and  led 
Anne's  horse  close  to  the  coach. 

The  vehicle  was  as  crude  as  may  be  supposed 
when  it  is  remembered  that  the  use  of  coaches  in 
England  was  then  scarce  thirty-five  years  old.  It 
was  springless,  heavy  of  wheel,  and  with  a  cover  hav 
ing  the  entrance-opening  at  the  side.  An  occupant 
of  it,  unless  he  sat  by  this  opening,  was  concealed 
from  view ;  and  his  cries,  if  he  made  any,  might 
be  drowned  by  the  various  noises  of  the  creak 
ing  and  rumbling  vehicle,  the  heavily  harnessed 


THE   PRISONER   IN   THE    COACH.  2 29 

horses,  and  the  boisterous  escort.  Once  an  inmate 
of  this  moving  prison,  Anne  might  try  in  vain  to 
communicate  with  the  outside  world  through  which 
her  captors  might  convey  her.  26 

"Mistress,"  said  Hal,  with  great  respect,  "be  so 
gracious  as  to  exchange  your  lame  horse  for  the 
coach."  And  he  offered  his  hand  to  assist  her. 

"  I  will  not  stir !  "  she  replied,  to  the  additional 
curiosity  of  Rumney  and  such  of  his  men  as  could 
witness  the  scene  by  looking  back  from  their  horses. 

Knowing  how  much  slower  must  be  his  future 
progress,  with  this  coach  to  be  dragged  along,  and 
how  much  less  he  could  afford  to  suffer  delay,  he 
forthwith  abandoned  words  for  acts.  With  all  pos 
sible  gentleness,  but  all  necessary  force,  he  deliber 
ately  grasped  her  foot  and  took  it  from  the  stirrup. 
He  then  directed  Kit  Bottle  to  dismount,  and 
unfasten  the  saddle-girth  of  her  horse.  This  done, 
Hal  drew  the  saddle  down,  on  his  side,  until  he 
could  clasp  her  waist.  He  then  had  Bottle  lead  her 
horse  away,  so  that,  the  saddle  sliding  to  the  ground, 
she  could  not  but  set  foot  upon  the  earth.  She  held, 
however,  to  the  bridle,  until  Hal,  by  a  steady  compul 
sion,  which  he  made  as  painless  as  possible,  loosened 
her  hands  from  it,  one  at  a  time. 

He  had  been  in  some  slight  fear  of  a  more  active 
resistance  from  her  ;  but  she  proved  herself  of  a 
dignity  above  that  of  women  who  bite  and  scratch. 


230  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

She  was  of  too  great  a  stateliness  to  put  herself  into 
ungraceful  or  vixenish  attitudes.  So  she  neither 
clawed  nor  pounded,  though  she  would  have  struck 
with  her  dagger  had  Hal  not  taken  it  from  her  in 
time.  But  she  exerted  all  her  strength  in  holding 
back  from  whatever  motion  he  sought  to  compel 
from  her.  He  saw  that  he  should  have  difficulty  in 
making  her  enter  the  coach. 

He  had  a  rude,  bench-like  seat  taken  out  of  the 
vehicle,  and  placed  beneath  the  opening,  to  serve  as 
a  step.  As  she  would  not  budge,  even  to  approach 
the  carriage,  he  lifted  her  with  both  arms,  carried 
her  forward,  and  placed  her  in  a  standing  position  on 
the  bench.  He  then  paused  for  breath,  still  keeping 
one  arm  about  her.  Commanding  Kit  to  hold  the 
bench  steady,  Hal  stepped  upon  it,  for  the  purpose 
of  lifting  her  into  the  vehicle.  He  saw  that  she  was 
taller  by  far  than  the  opening  through  which  she 
would  have  to  pass,  and  saw,  at  the  same  moment, 
that  she  made  herself  rigid,  so  that,  in  forcing  her 
into  the  coach,  he  might  be  put  to  the  use  of 
violence. 

He  gathered  strength  for  his  final  effort,  and 
grasped  her  waist  again.  At  this  instant,  he  noticed 
an  amused  grin  on  the  faces  of  some  of  Rumney's 
ruffians,  and  was  conscious  that,  perspiring  and  red- 
faced  from  his  exertions,  he  doubtless  made  a  some 
what  ridiculous  figure.  Perhaps  this  knowledge  acted 


THE   PRISONER    TN   THE    COACH.  23! 

as  a  stimulant,  and  also  made  him  a  little  less  con 
siderate  toward  his  prisoner.  He  stiffened  his 
muscles,  changed  her  direction  from  the  perpen 
dicular  to  the  oblique,  and  stepped  up  into  the  coach, 
her  diagonal  position  permitting  her  admission, 
headforemost,  through  the  opening.  He  then  caused 
the  seat  to  be  returned,  and  placed  her,  full-length, 
upon  it ;  and  ordered  PVancis  to  be  put  into  the 
coach  with  her. 

His  own  horse  being  brought  close  to  the  opening, 
Hal  transferred  himself  to  the  saddle,  his  intention 
being  to  ride  at  the  side  of  the  coach  wherever  the 
width  of  the  road  should  allow.  Anthony  was  to 
follow  close  behind  him.  Captain  Bottle  was  sent 
forward  to  lead  the  caravan.  Anne's  side-saddle  was 
placed  in  the  coach ;  her  horse,  being  lame,  was 
turned  loose  ;  that  of  Francis  was  hitched,  with  the 
animals  ridden  by  the  robbers,  to  the  vehicle.  Cap 
tain  Rumney  was  left  to  choose  his  own  place,  Hal 
supposing  he  would  elect  to  be  near  his  old-time 
gossip,  Bottle.  But  Rumney  preferred  to  ride  behind 
the  coach.  Hal  thereupon  called  to  Bottle  to  start, 
the  robbers  whipped  their  horses,  the  coach-wheels 
began  to  turn,  and  the  flight  was  at  last  resumed. 

Why  should  Rumney  have  placed  himself  at  the 
rear  ?  Hal  wondered,  and  a  vague  misgiving  entered 
his  mind  ;  nor  was  he  reassured  when,  at  a  place 
where  a  hard  heath  permitted  Anthony  to  ride  for 


232  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

a  moment  at  Hal's  side,  the  Puritan  muttered  to 
him  : 

"  Saw'st  thou  the  look  of  that  robber  captain  when 
he  first  set  eyes  on  the  lady  ?  I  liked  it  not  !  " 

With  which,  Anthony  fell  behind  again  to  Rum- 
ney's  side. 

Nor  —  now  that  he  recalled  that  look,  a  greedy 
lighting  up  of  wicked  eyes  —  did  Hal  himself  like 
it,  and  the  future  seemed  dubious. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

HOW    THE    PAGE    WALKED    IN    HIS    SLEEP. 
"  I  spy  a  black,  suspicious,  threatening  cloud." — Henry  VI.,  Part  III. 

MASTER  MARRYOTT  had  lost  nearly  two  hours  at 
Clown,  through  his  detention  by  the  constable,  his 
waiting  to  enlist  the  highway  robbers,  and  his  meas 
ures  for  putting  the  coach  into  service.  And  such 
was  the  badness  of  the  road,  that  he  had  consumed 
more  than  an  hour  in  covering,  with  alternate  dashes 
and  delays,  the  seven  miles  from  Clown  to  the  place 
where  he  had  overtaken  Anne.  Almost  another 
hour  had  been  used  in  awaiting  the  coming  of  the 
coach,  and  lodging  the  prisoner  therein.  It  was, 
thus,  between  two  and  three  in  the  afternoon  when 
the  northward  journey  was  again  taken  up. 

Hal,  as  he  rode  beside  the  coach,  considered  his 
situation  with  regard  to  his  pursuer,  Roger  Barnet. 
The  latter,  arriving  with  tired  horses  at  the  scene  of 
Hal's  wine-drinking,  and  thereafter  compelled  to  stop 
often  for  traces  of  the  fugitives,  must  have  been  as 
great  a  loser  of  time  as  Hal  had  been  ;  and  this 
accounted  for  his  non-appearance  during  either  of  the 

233 


234  ^    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

recent  delays.  But,  by  this  time,  he  was  probably 
not  very  far  behind ;  and  hereafter  Hal's  rate  of 
speed  must  be,  by  reason  of  the  coach,  considerably 
slower.  The  latter  circumstance  would  offset,  in 
Barnet's  favor,  the  two  disadvantages  under  which 
he  labored.  Moreover,  upon  learning  at  Clown  what 
company  Hal  had  reinforced  himself  with,  the  pur 
suivant  would  find  the  track  easier,  and  hence 
speedier,  to  follow  ;  the  passage  of  so  numerous  and 
ill-looking  a  band  being  certain  to  attract  more 
attention  than  would  that  of  a  party  of  three  or 
five. 

But  Hal  counted  upon  one  likelihood  for  a  com 
pensating  gain  of  a  few  hours,  —  the  likelihood  that 
Barnet,  to  strengthen  himself  for  possible  conflict 
with  Hal's  increased  force,  would  tarry  to  augment 
his  own  troop  with  men  from  the  neighborhood,  and 
that,  in  his  subsequent  pursuit,  as  well  as  in  this 
measure,  his  very  reliance  on  his  advantages  would 
make  him  less  strenuous  for  speed. 

Cheering  himself  with  the  best  probabilities, 
though  not  ignoring  the  worst,  Master  Marryott 
pressed  steadily  on,  after  the  manner  of  the  tortoise. 
When  bad  spots  in  the  road  appeared,  Kit  Bottle,  at 
the  head  of  the  line,  caused  the  robbers  to  whip  up 
their  horses  ;  and  if  this  did  not  avail  to  keep  the 
coach  from  being  stayed,  Hal  had  the  men  dismount 
and  put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheels.  A  grumbling 


HOW   THE   PAGE    WALKED   IN  HIS  SLEEP.     235 

dislike  to  this  kind  of  service  evinced  itself,  but 
Captain  Rumney,  flattered  by  the  courteous  way  in 
which  Hal  gave  him  the  necessary  orders  for  trans 
mission,  checked  with  peremptory  looks  the  discon 
tent.  Hal  conceded  a  short  stop,  at  a  solitary 
tavern,  for  a  refection  of  beer  and  barley-cakes. 
During  this  pause,  and  also  while  passing  through 
villages,  Hal  remained  at  the  coach-opening,  ready 
to  close  its  curtain  with  his  own  hand,  on  the  least 
occasion  from  the  inmates. 

But  Anne  and  her  page,  whose  flight  from  Scar- 
diff  that  morning  had  shortened  their  sleeping-time, 
were  too  languid  for  present  effort.  In  attitudes 
best  accommodated  to  the  movements  of  the  coach, 
they  sat  —  or  half  reclined  —  with  their  backs  against 
the  side  of  the  vehicle  for  support.  With  changeless 
face  and  lack-lustre  eyes,  Anne  viewed  what  of  the 
passing  country  she  could  see  through  the  open 
ing  ;  heedless  whether  Hal's  figure  interrupted  her 
vision  or  not ;  whether  she  passed  habitations,  or 
barren  heath,  or  fields,  or  forest.  Yet  she  did  not 
refuse  the  repast  that  Hal  handed  into  the  coach, 
which,  when  resort  was  had  to  the  lone  tavern,  he 
had  caused  to  stop  at  some  distance  from  the  house. 

Only  once  during  the  afternoon  did  he  take  the 
precaution  of  shutting  the  coach  entrance  ;  it  was 
while  passing  through  the  considerable  town  of 
Rotherham. 


236  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Night  fell  while  the  travellers  were  toilsomely 
penetrating  further  into  the  West  Riding  of  York 
shire.  When  at  last  Hal  gave  the  word  to  halt,  they 
found  themselves  before  a  rude  inn  with  numerous 
mean  outbuildings,  on  a  hill  about  six  miles  beyond 
Rotherham. 

Hal  had  now  to  provide,  because  of  new  condi 
tions,  somewhat  otherwise  than  he  had  done  at  his 
previous  stopping-places.  Anne  and  Francis  were 
to  be  closely  guarded,  a  repressive  hand  held  ready 
to  check  the  least  hostile  act  or  communication. 
Fresh  horses  could  not  be  obtained  in  number  equal 
to  the  company.  Ere  he  had  ordered  the  halt,  Mas 
ter  Marryott  had  formed  his  plans. 

At  first  it  seemed  that  he  might  not  unopposedly 
have  his  way  with  the  frowsy  -  headed  landlord 
who  appeared  in  the  doorway's  light  in  response  to 
his  summons.  But  when  the  blinking  host  became 
aware  of  the  numerousness  of  the  company,  and 
when  Captain  Rumney  rode  forward  into  the  light, 
he  instantly  grew  hospitable.  Evidently  the  captain 
and  the  innkeeper  were  old  acquaintances,  if  not 
occasional  partners  in  trade.  So  Hal  arranged  a 
barter  for  what  fresh  horses  were  at  the  fellow's 
command ;  took  lodgings  for  the  night  in  the 
several  outhouses,  caused  open  fires  to  be  made 
on  the  earthen  floors  therein,  and  ordered  food 
and  drink.  He  had  the  coach  drawn  into  shelter, 


HOW   THE  PAGE    WALKED   IN  HIS  SLEEP.     237 

near  one  of  the  fires,  and  bedding  placed  in  it,  with 
other  comforts  from  the  inn. 

He  then  informed  Anne  that  she  was  to  remain 
in  her  prison  overnight ;  and  he  assigned  to  Francis 
a  sleeping-place  on  a  pile  of  straw,  within  sword 
reach  of  where  he  himself  intended  to  guard  the 
curtained  opening  of  the  coach.  Anthony,  on  one 
of  the  fresh  horses,  should  keep  the  usual  watch 
for  Barnet's  party.  Bottle,  who  had  watched  at 
Scardiff,  was  to  sleep  in  the  stable-loft,  as  was 
also  Rumney,  whose  men  were  to  occupy  different 
outbuildings.  No  one  was  to  remove  his  clothes, 
and,  in  case  of  alarm,  all  were  to  unite  in  hitching 
the  horses,  and  to  resume  the  flight. 

The  horses  themselves  were  placed  in  stalls,  but 
in  as  forward  a  state  of  readiness  as  was  com 
patible  with  their  easy  resting.  It  was  made  clear 
that,  should  any  of  these  movements  be  inter 
rupted  or  followed  by  attack  from  a  pursuing 
party,  all  the  resistance  necessary  was  to  be 
offered. 

The  supper  ordered  was  brought  on  wooden  plat 
ters,  and  eaten  in  the  light  of  the  fires.  Hal,  as 
before,  served  Anne  through  the  coach  doorway, 
and  she  accepted  the  cakes  and  ale  with  neither 
reluctance  nor  thanks.  But  under  her  passiveness, 
Hal  saw  no  abandonment  of  her  purpose.  He 
saw,  rather,  a  design  to  gather  clearness  of  mind 


238  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

and  strength  of  body,  for  the  invention  and  execu 
tion  of  some  plan  not  only  possible  to  her  restraint, 
but  likely  to  be  more  effectual  than  any  she  had 
tried  when  free. 

When  the  company  had  supped,  and  the  robbers 
could  be  heard  snoring  in  the  adjacent  sheds,  and 
Francis  lay  in  the  troubled  sleep  of  excessive 
fatigue,  and  the  regular  breathing  of  Anne  herself 
was  audible  through  the  coach  curtain ;  when,  in 
fine,  every  member  of  his  strange  caravan  slept, 
save  Anthony  watching  at  the  hill's  southeastern 
brow,  Master  Marryott  sat  upon  a  log,  and  gazed 
into  the  sputtering  fire  on  the  ground,  and  mused. 
He  marvelled  to  think  how  many  and  diverse  and 
cumbrous  elements  he  had  assembled  to  his  hand, 
and  undertaken  to  keep  in  motion,  for  what  seemed 
so  small  a  cause. 

To  herd  with  robbers ;  to  lavish  the  queen's 
money;  to  deceive  a  woman  —  the  object  of  his 
love  —  so  that  he  brought  upon  himself  her  hate 
meant  for  another ;  to  carry  off  this  woman  by 
force,  and  put  her  to  the  utmost  fatigue  and  risk  ; 
to  wear  out  the  bodies,  and  imperil  the  necks,  of 
himself  and  so  many  others,  —  was  it  worth  all  this 
merely  to  create  a  fair  opportunity  —  not  a  cer 
tainty —  of  escape  for  a  Frenchified  English  Cath 
olic,  whose  life  was  of  no  consequence  to  the 
country  ?  Hal  laughed  to  think  how  unimportant 


HOW    THE   PAGE    WALKED  IN  HIS  SLEEP.     239 

and  uninteresting  was  the  man  in  whose  be 
half  all  these  labors  and  discomforts  were  being 
undergone  by  so  many  people,  some  of  whom  were 
so  much  more  useful  and  ornamental  to  the  world. 

And  yet  he  knew  that  the  business  ivas  worth  the 
effort ;  worth  all  the  toil  and  risk  that  he  himself 
took,  and  that  he  imposed  upon  other  people.  It 
was  worth  all  this,  perhaps  not  that  a  life  might  be 
saved,  but  that  a  debt  might  be  paid,  a  promise 
made  good,  —  his  debt  of  gratitude  to  Sir  Valen 
tine,  his  promise  to  the  queen.  It  was  worth  any 
cost,  that  a  gentleman  should  fulfil  his  obligations, 
however  incurred.  To  an  Englishman  of  that  time, 
moreover,  it  was  worth  a  world  of  trouble,  merely 
to  please  the  queen. 

But  what  most  and  deepest  moved  Hal  forward, 
and  made  turning  back  impossible,  was  the  demand 
in  him  for  success  on  its  own  account,  the  intoler- 
ableness  of  failure  in  any  deed  that  he  might  lay 
upon  himself.  Manly  souls  daily  strain  great  re 
sources  for  small  causes,  or  for  no  cause  worth 
considering,  for  the  reason  that  they  cannot  endure 
to  fail  in  what  they  have,  however  thoughtlessly, 
undertaken.  The  man  of  mettle  will  not  relinquish ; 
he  will  die,  but  he  will  not  let  go.  It  is  because 
the  thing  most  necessary  to  him  is  his  own  ap 
plause;  he  will  not  forfeit  that,  though  he  must 
pay  with  his  life  to  retain  it.  Once  his  hand  is 


240  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

to  the  plow,  though  he  find  too  late  that  the  field 
is  barren,  he  will  furrow  that  field  through,  or  he 
will  drop  in  his  tracks  ;  what  concerns  him  is,  not 
the  reason  or  the  reward,  but  the  mere  fact  of  suc 
cess  or  failure  in  the  self-assigned  work.  Men 
show  this  in  their  sports ;  indeed,  the  game  that 
heroes  play  with  circumstance  and  destiny,  for  the 
mere  sake  of  striving  to  win,  is  to  them  a  sport 
of  the  keenest.  "  Maybe  it  was  not  worth  doing, 
but  I  told  myself  I  would  do  it,  and  I  did  it !  >: 
Hal  fancied  the  deep  elation  that  must  attend 
those  words,  could  he  truly  say  them  three  days 
hence. 

About  three  hours  after  midnight  he  awoke  his 
people,  had  the  horses  put  to  the  coach,  sent  for 
Anthony  by  one  of  the  robbers,  —  a  renegade  Lon 
don  apprentice,  Tom  Cobble  by  name,  whose  face 
he  liked  for  its  bold  frankness, — and  rode  forth 
with  his  company  toward  Barnesley.  They  passed 
through  this  town  in  the  early  morning  of  Friday, 
March  6th,  the  third  day  of  the  flight.  Though 
Anne  showed  the  utmost  indifference  to  her  sur 
roundings,  Hal  closed  her  curtain,  as  he  had  done 
at  Rotherham,  until  the  open  country  was  again 
reached. 

Soon  after  this,  Mistress  Hazlehurst  changed  her 
place  to  the  forward  part  of  the  coach,  and  her  posi 
tion  so  as  to  face  the  backward  part.  She  could 


HOW   Till'.    PAGE   WALKED   IN  HIS  SLEEP.     24! 

thus  be  seen  by  any  one  riding  at  the  side  of  the 
coach's  rear,  and  glancing  obliquely  through  the  open 
ing-.  It  was,  at  present,  Anthony  Underhill  that 
benefited  by  this  new  arrangement. 

Five  miles  after  Barnesley,  Master  Marryott  or 
dered  a  halt  for  breakfast.  As  before,  food  was 
brought  to  the  prisoners.  The  stop  gave  Captain 
Rumney  an  opportunity  of  peering  in  through  the 
coach  doorway. 

When,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  journey  was  resumed, 
Rumney,  without  a  word,  took  the  place  behind 
Marryott,  formerly  kept  by  Anthony. 

"By  your  leave,  sir,"  said  the  Puritan,  forced  by 
this  usurpation  to  drop  behind  the  coach,  "that  is 
where  I  ride." 

"Tut,  man!"  replied  Rumney,  with  an  insolent 
pretence  of  carelessness  ;  "  what  matters  it  ?  " 

"  It  matters  to  me  that  I  ride  where  I  have  been 
commanded  to,"  said  the  Puritan, ,  with  quiet  stub 
bornness,  heading  his  horse  to  take  the  place  from 
which  he  expected  the  other  to  fall  out. 

"And  it  matters  to  me  that  I  ride  where  I  please 
to,"  retorted  Rumney,  with  a  little  less  concealment 
of  the  ugliness  within  him. 

Anthony  frowned  darkly,  and  looked  at  Marryott, 
who  had  turned  half  around  on  his  horse  at  the  dis 
pute.  Rumney  regarded  Hal  narrowly  through  half 
shut  eyes,  in  which  defiance  lurked,  ready  to  burst 


A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

forth  on  provocation.  Hal  read  his  man,  choked 
down  his  feelings,  considered  that  an  open  break 
was  not  yet  to  be  afforded,  and  to  make  the  matter 
in  which  he  yielded  seem  a  trifle,  said,  quietly : 

"  My  commands  were  too  narrow,  Anthony.  So 
that  you  ride  behind  me,  one  side  of  the  road  will  do 
as  well  as  another.  The  fault  was  mine,  Captaia 
Rumney." 

So  Anthony  fell  back  without  protest  or  com 
plaint.  He  cast  his  look  earthward,  that  it  might 
not  seem  to  reproach  Master  Marryott.  And  a 
bitter  moment  was  it  to  Master  Marryott,  for  his 
having  had  to  fail  of  supporting  his  own  man  against 
this  rascal  outlaw.  A  moment  of  keener  chagrin 
followed,  when  Hal  caught  a  swift  glance  of  swag 
gering  triumph  —  a  crowing  kind  of  half  smile  — 
that  Rumney  sent  to  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  with 
whom  he  was  now  in  line  of  vision.  It  seemed  to 
say,  "  You  see,  mistress,  what  soft  stuff  this  captor 
of  yours  shall  prove  in  my  hands  ? "  And  in  Anne's 
eyes,  as  Hal  clearly  beheld,  was  the  light  of  a  new 
hope,  as  if  she  perceived  in  this  robber  a  possible 
instrument  or  champion. 

But  Master  Marryott  let  none  of  his  thoughts 
appear ;  he  hardened  his  face  to  the  impassibility  of 
a  mask,  and  seemed  neither  to  suspect  nor  to  fear 
anything ;  seemed,  indeed,  to  feel  himself  above  pos 
sibility  of  defeat  or  injury.  He  realized  that  here 


HOW  THE    PAGE    WALKED   IN  HIS   SLEEP.     243 

was  a  case  where  danger  might  be  precipitated  by 
any  recognition  of  its  existence. 

During  the  next  six  hours,  he  saw,  though  appeared 
not  to  heed,  that  Anne  kept  her  gaze  fixed  behind 
him,  upon  the  robber  captain.  There  was  no  appeal 
in  her  eyes,  no  promise,  no  overture  to  conspiracy  ; 
nothing  but  that  intentional  lack  of  definite  expres 
sion,  which  makes  such  eyes  the  more  fascinating, 
because  the  more  mysterious.  Even  savages  like 
Rumney  are  open  to  the  witchery  of  the  unfathom 
able  in  a  pair  of  fine  eyes.  Hal  wondered  how  long 
the  inevitable  could  be  held  off.  He  avoided  con 
versation  with  Rumney,  did  not  even  look  back  at 
him,  lest  pretext  might  be  given  for  an  outbreak.  He 
was  kept  informed  of  the  knave's  exact  whereabouts 
by  the  noise  of  the  latter's  horse,  and,  most  of  the 
time,  by  the  direction  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  look. 
He  had  no  fear  of  a  sudden  attack  upon  himself,  for 
he  knew  that  Anthony  Underhill  held  the  robber  in 
as  close  a  watch  as  Mistress  Hazlehurst  did. 

In  mid-afternoon,  the  caravan  stopped  within  three 
miles  of  Halifax,  for  food  and  rest.  Master  Marryott 
stayed  near  the  coach.  Rumney,  too,  hovered  close  ; 
but  as  yet  a  kind  of  loutish  bashfulness  toward  a 
woman  of  Anne's  haughtiness,  rather  than  a  fear 
of  Master  Marryott,  —  at  least,  so  Hal  supposed,  — 
checked  him  from  any  attempt  to  address  her.  Mar 
ryott  called  Kit  Bottle,  and,  while  apparently  viewing 


244  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

the  surrounding  country  as  if  to  plan  their  further 
route,  talked  with  him  in  whispers  : 

"Thy  friend  Rumney,"  said  Hal,  "seems  a  cur 
as  ready  to  jump  at  one's  throat  as  to  crawl  at  one's 
feet." 

"  'Twas  lack  of  forethought,  I'm  afeard,  to  take 
up  with  the  knave,  where  a  woman  was  to  be  con 
cerned,"  replied  Kit.  "It  was  about  a  red  and  white 
piece  of  frailty  that  he  dealt  scurvily  with  me  in  the 
Netherlands.  Were  there  no  she  in  the  case,  we 
might  trust  him  ;  he  hath  too  great  shyness  of  law 
officers,  on  his  own  account,  to  move  toward  selling 
us." 

"  If  he  had  a  mind,  now,  to  rescue  this  lady  from 
us  —  "  began  Hal. 

"  'Twould  be  a  sorry  rescue  for  the  lady  !  "  put  in 
Bottle. 

Hal  shuddered. 

"  And  yet  she  would  throw  herself  into  his  hands, 
to  escape  ours,  that  she  might  be  free  to  work  me 
harm,"  said  he. 

"  An  she  think  she  would  find  freedom  that  way, 
she  knows  not  Rumney.  If  thine  only  care  were  to 
be  no  more  troubled  of  her,  thou  couldst  do  little 
better  than  let  Rumney  take  her  off  thy  hands." 

"  I  would  kill  thee,  Kit,  if  I  knew  not  thou  saidst 
that  but  to  rally  me !  Yet  I  will  not  grant  it  true, 
either.  She  might  contrive  to  tame  this  Rumney 


HOW   THE   PAGE   WALKED  IN  HIS  SLEEP.     245 

beast,  and  work  us  much  harm.  Well,  smile  an  thou 
wilt !  Thine  age  gives  thee  privileges  with  me,  and 
I  will  confess  'tis  her  own  safety  most  concerns  me 
in  this  anxiety.  Sink  this  Rumney  in  perdition ! 
—  why  did  I  ever  encumber  us  with  him  and  his 
rascals  ? " 

"  Speaking  of  his  rascals,  now,"  said  Kit,  "  I  have 
noticed  some  of  them  rather  minded  to  heed  your 
wishes  than  Rumney's  commands.  There  hath  been 
wrangling  in  the  gang." 

"There  is  one,  methinks,"  assented  Hal,  "that 
would  rather  take  my  orders  than  his  leader's.  'Tis 
the  round-headed,  sharp-eyed  fellow,  Tom  Cobble. 
He  is  a  runagate  'prentice  from  London,  and  seemeth 
to  have  more  respect  for  town  manners  than  for 
Rumney's." 

"  And  there  is  a  yeoman's  son,  John  Hatch,  that 
rides  near  me,"  added  Kit.  "  He  hath  some  rem 
nant  of  honesty  in  him,  or  I  mistake.  And  one  Ned 
Moreton,  who  is  of  gentle  blood  and  mislikes  to  be 
overborne  by  such  carrion  as  Rumney.  And  yon 
scare-faced,  fat-paunched  fellow,  Noll  Bunch  they 
call  him,  hath  been  under-bailiff  in  a  family  that 
hath  fled  the  country.  I  warrant  he  hath  no  taste 
for  robbery ;  methinks  he  took  to  the  road  in  sheer 
need  of  filling  his  stomach,  and  would  give  much  to 
be  free  of  his  bad  bargain.  There  be  two  or  three 
more  that  might  make  choice  of  us,  in  a  clash  with 


246  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

their  captain  ;  but  the  rest  are  of  the  mangiest  litter 
that  was  ever  bred  among  two-legged  creatures." 

"Then  win  over  quietly  whom  thou  canst,  Kit. 
But  let  us  have  no  clash  till  we  must." 

Rumney  and  his  men  looked  almost  meek  while 
passing  through  Halifax.  And  herein  behold  man 
kind's  horror  of  singularity.  In  other  towns  these 
robbers  had  been  under  as  much  possibility  of  recog 
nition  and  detention ;  but  in  those  towns  the  result 
of  their  arrest  would  have  been  no  worse  than  hang 
ing,  and  was  not  hanging  the  usual,  common,  and 
natural  ending  of  a  thief  ?  But  in  Halifax  there  was 
that  unique  "  Gibbet  Law,"  under  which  thieves  were 
beheaded  by  a  machine  something  like  the  guillotine 
which  another  country  and  a  later  century  were  yet 
to  produce.  There  was  in  such  a  death  an  isolation, 
from  which  a  properly  bred  thief,  brought  up  to 
regard  the  hempen  rope  as  his  due  destiny,  might 
well  shrink. 

But  the  robbers  could  sleep  with  easy  minds  that 
night,  for  Master  Marryott  put  Halifax  eight  miles 
behind  ere  he  rested. 

Similar  arrangements  to  those  of  the  preceding 
night  were  made  at  the  inn  chosen  as  a  stopping- 
place.  The  coach,  furnished  for  comfortable  repose, 
stood  near  a  fire,  under  roof.  Hal,  who  thought  that 
he  had  now  mastered  the  art  of  living  without  sleep, 
set  himself  to  keep  guard  again,  by  Francis,  near  the 


HOW  THE  PAGE    WALKED   IN  HIS  SLEEP. 

coach  doorway.  It  was  Anthony's  night  to  share 
Rumney's  couch  of  straw ;  Kit  Bottle's  to  watch  for 
Barnet's  men. 

Master  Marryott,  sitting  by  the  fire,  was  assailed 
by  fears  lest  the  pursuivant  had  abandoned  the  false 
chase.  If  not,  it  was  strange,  when  the  slow  prog 
ress  with  the  coach  was  considered,  that  he  had  not 
come  in  sight.  Hal  reassured  himself  by  accounting 
for  this  in  more  ways  than  one.  Barnet  must  have 
been  detained  long  in  recruiting  men  to  join  in  the 
pursuit.  He  may  have  been  hindered  by  lack  of 
money,  also,  for  he  had  left  London  without  thought 
of  further  journey  than  to  Welwyn.  He  could  press 
all  necessary  means  into  service,  in  the  queen's  name, 
as  he  went  ;  but  in  doing  this  he  must  experience 
much  delay  that  ready  coin  would  have  avoided. 
True,  Barnet  would  have  learned  at  Clown  that  the 
supposed  Sir  Valentine  had  named  himself  as  a 
London  player ;  but  he  would  surely  think  this 
a  lie,  as  Mistress  Hazlehurst  had  thought  it. 

A  slight  noise  —  something  like  a  man  yawning 
aloud,  or  moaning  in  sleep  —  turned  Marryott's 
musings  into  another  channel.  The  sound  had 
come  from  one  of  the  other  outhouses,  probably  that 
in  which  were  Captain  Rumney  and  Anthony  Under 
bill.  It  put  dark  apprehensions  into  Hal's  mind,  be 
cause  of  its  resemblance  to  the  groan  a  man  might 
give  if  he  were  stabbed  to  death  in  slumber. 


248  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Suppose,  thought  he,  this  Rumney  were  minded 
for  treason  and  robbery.  How  could  he  better  pro 
ceed,  in  order  to  avoid  all  stir,  than  to  avail  himself 
of  the  present  separation  of  Hal's  party  ;  to  slay  An 
thony  first,  while  Bottle  was  away  on  the  watch  ; 
and  thus  have  Marryott  and  Kit  each  in  position  to 
be  dealt  with  single-handed  ? 

Hal  now  saw  the  error  of  having  Anthony  sleep 
out  of  his  sight  ;  for  the  Puritan  was  one  who 
watched  while  he  watched,  and  slept  while  he  slept. 
The  present  situation  ought  not  to  be  continued  a 
moment  longer.  Yet  how  was  Hal  to  summon  An 
thony  ?  To  awaken  him  by  voice,  one  would  have 
to  raise  such  clamor  as  would  alarm  the  robbers 
and  perchance  excite  their  leader's  suspicions.  A 
touch  on  the  shoulder  would  accomplish  the  de 
sired  result  quietly.  Might  Hal  venture  from  his 
present  post  for  the  brief  time  necessary  to  his 
purpose  ? 

Francis  lay  near  the  fire,  his  eyes  closed,  his  res 
pirations  long  and  easy.  The  softer  breathing  of 
the  prisoner  in  the  coach  was  as  deep  and  measured. 
Hal  stole  noiselessly  out,  and  made  for  the  shed  in 
which  the  Puritan  slept. 

Anthony  lay  in  his  cloak,  on  a  pile  of  hay,  his 
back  turned  to  that  of  Rumney.  The  highway  rob 
ber's  eyes  were  closed ;  whether  he  slept  or  not,  Hal 
could  not  have  told.  But  there  was  no  doubt  of  the 


HOW   THE  PAGE    WALKED   IN  HIS  SLEEP.     249 

somnolent  state  of  the  Puritan.  A  steady  gentle 
shaking  of  his  shoulder  caused  him  to  open  his 
eyes. 

"  Come  with  me,"  whispered  Hal.  The  Puritan 
rose,  without  a  word,  and  followed  from  the  one  shed 
to  the  other,  and  to  the  fire  by  the  coach. 

"  'Tis  best  you  sleep  in  my  sight,  beside  the  lad," 
said  Marryott,  turning  toward  the  designated  spot  as 
he  finished.  In  the  same  instant,  he  stared  as  if  he 
saw  a  ghost,  and  then  stifled  an  oath. 

Francis  was  gone. 

Hal  looked  about,  but  saw  nothing  human  in  range 
of  the  firelight.  He  hastened  to  the  curtained  open 
ing  of  the  coach.  The  same  soft  breathing  —  there 
could  be  no  mistaking  it  —  still  came  from  within. 

"  She  is  here,  at  least,"  Hal  said,  quickly,  to  the 
somewhat  mystified  Anthony.  "But  he  hath  flown 
on  some  errand  of  her  plotting,  depend  on't !  He 
must  have  feigned  sleep,  and  followed  me  out.  He 
can't  be  far,  as  yet.  'Tis  but  a  minute  since. 
Watch  you  by  the  coach  !  " 

With  which  order,  Master  Marryott  seized  a  brand 
from  the  fire,  and  ran  out  again  to  the  yard. 

But  he  had  scarce  cast  a  swift  glance  around  the 
place,  ere  he  saw  Francis  coming  out  of  the  very 
shed  from  which  Hal  himself  had  led  Anthony  a  few 
moments  earlier. 

"What    is    this?"   cried    Marryott,    grasping   the 


250  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

boy's  arm,  and  thrusting  the  firebrand  almost  into 
his  face. 

Francis  stared  vacantly  for  an  instant,  then  gave 
a  start,  blinked,  and  looked  at  Hal  as  if  for  the  first 
time  conscious  of  what  was  going  on. 

"What's  afoot,  you  knave?"  said  Hal,  squeezing 
the  page's  arm.  "  What  deviltry  are  you  about, 
following  me  from  your  bed,  hiding  in  the  darkness 
while  I  pass,  and  going  to  yonder  shed  ?  You  bore 
some  message  from  your  mistress  to  Master  Rum- 
ney,  I'll  warrant  !  Confess,  or  'twill  go  ill !  " 

"  I  know  not  where  I've  been,  or  what  done," 
replied  the  boy,  coolly.  "  I  walk  in  my  sleep, 
sir." 

Hal  searchingly  inspected  the  lad's  countenance, 
but  it  did  not  flinch.  Pondering  deeply,  he  then  led 
the  way  back  to  his  fire,  and  commanded  the  page  to 
lie  down.  Francis  readily  obeyed. 

Bidding  the  puzzled  but  unquestioning  Puritan 
sleep  beside  the  boy,  Hal  soon  lost  himself  in  his 
thoughts,  — lost  himself  so  far  that  it  did  not  occur 
to  him  to  step  now  and  then  to  the  door  and  look  out 
into  the  night  ;  else  he  might  presently  have  seen  a 
dark  figure  move  stealthily  from  outhouse  to  out 
house  as  if  in  search  of  something.  It  would  then 
have  appeared  that  Captain  Rumney,  also,  was  given 
to  walking  in  his  sleep. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

TREACHERY. 

"  God  pless  you,  Aunchient  Pistol!  you  scurvy,  lousy  knave,  God  pless  you!"  — 
Henry  V. 

"  HERE  is  the  snow  thou  hast  foretold,"  said  Mas 
ter  Marryott  to  Anthony  Underbill,  as  the  cavalcade 
set  out,  three  hours  after  midnight. 

"  And  a  plague  of  wind,"  put  in  Captain  Rumney, 
with  a  good  humor  in  which  Marryott  smelt  some 
purpose  of  cultivating  confidence. 

The  riders  wrapped  themselves  in  their  cloaks, 
and  muffled  their  necks  to  keep  out  the  pelting 
flakes.  The  night  being  at  its  darkest,  the  snow 
was  more  "perceptible  to  feeling"  than  "to  sight," 
save  where  it  flew  and  eddied  in  the  light  of  a  torch 
carried  by  Bottle  at  the  head  of  the  line,  and  of  a 
lanthorn  that  Hal  had  caused  to  be  attached  to  the 
rear  of  the  coach.  Between  these  two  dim  centres 
of  radiance,  the  horsemen  shivered  and  grumbled 
unseen,  and  cursed  their  steeds,  and  wished  red 
murrains  and  black  plagues,  and  poxes  of  no 
designated  color,  upon  the  weather. 

251 


252  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

They  passed  through  Keighley  about  dawn.  Two 
miles  further  on,  they  stopped  at  an  isolated  house 
for  breakfast.  As  Marryott  opened  the  coach  cur 
tain  (it  had  been  closed  against  the  whirling  snow), 
to  convey  to  the  prisoners  some  cakes  and  milk,  Mis 
tress  Hazlehurst  motioned  Francis  to  set  the  platter 
on  a  coach  seat,  and  said  to  Hal : 

"If  you  wish  not  to  murder  me,  you  will  let  me 
walk  a  little  rather  than  eat.  I  seem  to  have  lost 
the  use  of  legs  and  arms,  penned  up  in  this  cage 
these  two  days." 

"  Nay,  'tis  but  a  day  and  a  half,"  corrected 
Marryott.  "  But  you  may  walk  whiles  we  tarry 
here,  an  you  choose.  The  snow  is  ankle-deep  in  the 
road,  however." 

"  I  care  not  if  it  be  knee-deep." 

"  Will  you  promise  to  return  to  the  coach  at  my 
word,  if  I  let  you  out  to  walk  ? "  Hal  did  not  feel 
equal  to  putting  her  into  the  coach  again  by  bodily 
force. 

"  God's  light,  yes  !     What  choice  have  I  ?" 

"And  while  you  walk,  I  must  walk  beside  you, 
and  Francis  at  my  other  side." 

"  I  have  said,  what  choice  have  I  ? " 

He  offered  his  hand  to  assist  her  from  the  coach. 
But  she  leaped  out  unaided,  and  started  forthwith  in 
the  direction  whence  the  travellers  had  just  come. 
Hal  waited  for  Francis,  and  then  strode  after  her, 


TREACHERY.  253 

holding  the  page  by  a  sleeve.  Kit  Bottle  was  busy 
looking  to  the  refreshment  of  the  horses.  Captain 
Rumncy  was  stalking  up  and  down  the  road,  his 
whole  attention  apparently  concentrated  upon  a  pot 
of  ale  he  carried.  Anthony  Underbill  had  ridden 
back  to  a  slightly  elevated  spot,  to  keep  watch. 

Master  Marryott  was  soon  at  his  prisoner's  side. 
She  could  not,  for  snow  and  wind,  long  maintain  the 
pace  at  which  she  had  started  from  the  coach.  The 
weather  reddened  her  cheeks,  which  took  hue  also 
from  her  crimson  cloak  and  hood.  Hal  thought  her 
very  beautiful,  —  a  thing  of  bloom  and  rich  color  in 
a  bleak,  white  desert.  It  smote  him  keenly  to 
remember  that  she  deemed  him  her  brother's  slayer. 
He  was  half  tempted  to  tell  her  the  truth,  now  that 
she  was  his  prisoner  and  could  not  go  back  to  unde 
ceive  Roger  Barnet.  But  would  she  believe  him  ? 
And  if  she  should,  was  it  certain  that  she  might  not 
escape  ere  the  next  two  days  were  up  ?  Prudence 
counselled  Hal  to  take  no  risks.  So,  in  faintest  hope 
of  shaking  her  hatred  a  little,  of  creating  at  least  a 
doubt  in  his  favor,  he  fell  back  on  the  poor  device  of 
which  he  had  already  made  one  or  two  abortive  trials. 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Mistress  Hazlehurst,"  he  began, 
somewhat  awkwardly,  "  'twas  not  I  that  gave  your 
brother  his  unhappy  wound.  There  is  something 
unexplained,  touching  that  occurrence,  that  will  be 
cleared  to  you  in  time." 


254  A    GENTLEMAiV  PLAYER. 

A  little  to  his  surprise,  she  did  not  cut  short  all 
possible  discussion  by  some  sharp  derisive  or  con 
temptuous  answer.  Though  her  tone  showed  no  fall 
ing  away  from  conviction,  she  yet  evinced  a  passive 
willingness  to  talk  of  the  matter. 

"There  hath  been  explanation  enough  for  me," 
she  answered.  "  I  had  the  full  story  of  my  brother's 
servants,  who  saw  all." 

"  The  officers  of  justice  could  not  have  had  a  like 
story,"  said  Hal,  at  random.  "  Else  why  came  they 
never  to  Fleetwood  house  ?  " 

"  You  well  know.  The  quarrel  was  witnessed  of 
none  but  your  man  and  my  brother's  servants. 
They  kept  all  quiet ;  your  man,  for  your  safety's 
sake  ;  my  brother's  men,  for  — •  for  the  reason  — 
My  brother's  men  kept  all  quiet,  too,  till  I  came 
home." 

"  And  why  did  your  brother's  men  so  ?  You  broke 
off  there." 

"  Oh,  I  care  not  if  I  say  it  !  My  brother's  servants 
were  not  as  near  the  encounter  as  your  man  was, 
and  they  saw  ill ;  they  were  of  a  delusion  that  you 
struck  in  self-defence.  And  my  brother,  too,  bade 
them  hush  the  matter." 

"  'Twas  as  much  as  to  admit  that  he  was  the 
offender." 

"  Well,  what  matters  that  ?  At  best  there  was 
little  zeal  he  might  expect  of  his  neighbors  in  visit- 


TREACHERY.  255 

ing  the  law  upon  you.  He  was  a  man  of  too  strong 
mettle  ;  he  was  too  hated  in  the  county  to  hope  for 
justice,  even  against  a  Catholic.  Well  you  know 
that,  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  !  But  I  would  have 
had  my  rights  of  the  law,  or  paid  you  in  mine  own 
way,27  had  not  this  other  means  of  vengeance  come 
to  my  hand  !  Self-defence  or  no  self-defence,  you 
shed  my  brother's  blood,  and  I  will  be  a  cause  of 
the  shedding  of  yours  !  " 

"  But  I  say  naught  of  self-defence.  I  say  I  am 
not  he  that,  rightly  or  wrongly,  shed  your  brother's 
blood  !  " 

"  God-'a'-mercy,  sir,  I  marvel  at  you  !  'Tis  sheer 
impudence  to  deny  what  mine  own  family  servants 
saw  with  their  eyes  and  told  me  with  their  lips ! 
Think  you,  because  I  am  some  miles  and  days  from 
all  witnesses  of  the  quarrel,  save  your  own  man,  my 
mind  is  to  be  clouded  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  say  only  that  there  is  a  strange  circumstance  in 
all  this  business,  that  may  not  yet  be  opened  to  you. 
Well,  I  see  that  till  time  shall  permit  explanation,  I 
must  despair  of  seeming  other  to  you  than  stained 
with  your  brother's  blood.  My  word  of  honor,  my 
oath,  avail  not  — 

"  Speak  you  of  oaths  and  words  of  honor  ?  There 
was  some  talk  of  oaths  two  days  ago,  before  the 
constable  of  Clown  !  " 

Hal  sisrhed.      He  did  not  notice  that,  in  drawing 


256  A    GENTLEMAN'  PLAYER, 

him  further  into  conversation,  she  had  drawn  him 
further  from  the  coach,  which  was  indeed  now  hidden 
behind  a  slight  turn  of  the  road. 

"Well,"  quoth  he,  resignedly,  "time  shall  clear 
me  ;  and  show,  too,  why  I  have  had  to  put  so  admired 
a  lady  to  so  irksome  a  constraint." 

"  Say,  rather,  time  shall  give  your  prisoner  re 
venge  for  all  constraint.  Think  not  you  have  put 
me  to  much  distress  !  What  says  the  play  ?  Women 
can  endure  rnewing  up,  so  that  you  tie  not  their 
tongues  ! " 

"  I  thank  heaven  you  have  not  given  me  cause  to 
tie  your  tongue  !  " 

"Given  you  cause, — how?"  she  asked,  looking 
full  at  him. 

"  Why,  suppose,  in  the  towns  we  passed,  you  had 
cried  out  from  the  coach  to  people,  and  I  had  found 
the  closed  curtain  of  no  avail." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  then  ?  " 

"  Bound  with  a  silken  kerchief  the  shapeliest  mouth 
in  England  !  Ay,  with  these  very  hands  of  mine  !  " 

"  Ere  that  were  done,  I  should  have  made  stir 
enough  to  draw  a  concourse.  Were  I  hard  put  to 
it,  be  sure  I  would  attract  questioners  to  whom  you'd 
have  to  give  account." 

"  Account  were  easy  given.  I  should  declare  you 
were  a  mad  woman  committed  to  my  charge." 

"  More  perjury  !  " 


TREACHERY.  2$? 

"  Nay,  there  is  truly  some  madness  in  a  woman's 
taking  vengeance  into  her  own  small  hands." 

She  answered  nothing,  and  presently  they  returned 
to  the  coach.  Captain  Rumney  stood  pensively  by 
his  horse,  his  gaze  averted,  as  if  he  thought  of  the 
past  or  the  far  away.  He  now  looked  mildly  up,  and 
mounted.  The  other  robbers  were  already  on  their 
horses,  Bottle  at  their  head.  Mistress  Hazlehurst  let 
Hal  lift  her  into  the  coach.  Francis  followed.  Mar- 
ryott  then  whistled  for  Anthony,  and  got  into  the 
saddle. 

"The  snow  falls  thicker  and  thicker,"  remarked 
Captain  Rumney,  in  a  bland,  sociable  tone,  while  the 
caravan  waited  for  the  Puritan. 

As  soon  as  Anthony  was  in  place,  Hal  motioned 
to  Bottle,  at  whose  word  the  robbers,  with  whip  and 
rein,  set  their  horses  in  motion.  The  harness  strained, 
the  coach  creaked,  the  wheels  turned  reluctantly  in 
the  snow.  The  procession  moved  forward  a  short 
distance  ;  then,  suddenly,  there  was  a  splitting  sound, 
a  rear  wheel  fell  inward,  and  the  adjacent  part  of  the 
coach  dropped  heavily  to  the  ground.  The  vehicle, 
thereupon,  was  still,  halting  the  horses  with  a  violent 
jerk. 

Anthony  Underbill  leaped  from  his  saddle,  and 
turned  over  the  loose  wheel.  A  single  glance  re 
vealed  that  the  axle  had  been,  within  a  very  short 
time  past,  cut  nearly  through  with  a  saw. 


258  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Anthony  looked  at  Master  Marryott,  who  gazed 
at  the  axle  with  a  singularly  self-communing,  close- 
mouthed  expression.  All  was  very  clear  to  Master 
Marryott ;  a  train  of  events  had  rushed  through  his 
mind  in  an  eye's  twinkling:  Mistress  Hazlehurst's 
subjugation  of  Captain  Rumney  by  the  use  of  her 
eyes ;  the  nocturnal  visit  of  her  page  to  the  robber 
in  the  single  opportunity  afforded  by  Hal's  move 
ments  ;  the  walk  in  which  she  had  drawn  Hal  from 
the  coach  at  a  time  when  Anthony  was  on  guard  and 
Kit  Bottle  concerned  with  the  horses.  A  few  words 
would  have  sufficed  for  the  message  borne  by  Fran 
cis  to  Rumney,  such  as,  "  My  mistress  desires  you 
to  wreck  the  coach  ;  she  will  make  an  opportunity." 
She  had  not  asked  Rumney  to  rescue  her  by  force, 
for  he  might  prove  a  worse  captor  than  her  present 
one.  She  had  not  asked  him  to  injure  the  horses 
during  the  night,  for  the  watch  kept  by  Hal  might 
prevent  that,  or  the  robber  might  be  unwilling  to 
sacrifice  his  own  animals.  What  she  sought  was 
delay  for  the  coming  of  Barnet  ;  not  an  open  revolt  of 
the  robbers,  which  might  be  so  victorious  as  to  put 
her  at  their  mercy.  And  Rumney  had  obeyed  her  to 
the  letter ;  had,  doubtless,  after  receiving  her  message, 
searched  the  outhouses  for  a  suitable  tool ;  and  prob 
ably  carried  at  the  present  moment,  beneath  his  leather 
jerkin,  the  hand-saw  with  which,  during  Hal's  walk 
with  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  he  had  severed  the  axle. 


TREACHERY.  259 

But,  whatever  lay  concealed  under  his  jerkin  or  his 
skull,  Captain  Rumney  was  now  looking  down  at  the 
wheel  with  a  most  surprised,  puzzled,  curious,  how- 
in-God's-name-could-this-have-come-to-pass  expression 
of  face. 

It  was  but  the  early  morning  of  the  fourth  day  of 
the  flight.  Could  Hal  but  defer  the  inevitable  break 
with  his  ally,  for  this  day  and  another !  Until  the 
five  days  were  up,  an  open  breach  with,  or  secret 
flight  from,  these  robbers,  meant  the  risk  of  either 
his  mission  or  her  safety.  For  such  break  or  flight 
might  leave  her  in  their  hands.  This  horrible  issue 
could  be  provided  against  only  by  Hal's  consigning 
her  to  protection  in  some  town  or  some  gentleman's 
house  ;  but  such  provision  he  dared  not  make  till  his 
mission  was  accomplished,  lest  she  defeat  that  mis 
sion  by  disclosures  that  would  either  cause  his  own 
seizure  or  raise  doubts  in  Barnet  as  to  his  identity. 

Decidedly,  patience  was  the  proper  virtue  here, 
and  the  best  policy  was  that  of  temporizing. 

"'Tis  a  curious  smooth  break,"  said  Hal,  with  an 
indescribable  something  in  his  voice  for  the  benefit 
of  Anthony,  and  of  Kit,  who  had  ridden  back  to  see 
what  stayed  the  coach.  "  But  I  have  seen  wood 
break  so,  when  decay  hath  eaten  a  straight  way 
through  it.  Mistress,  I  rejoice  to  see  you  are  not 
hurt  by  the  sudden  jar." 

He    spoke   to    her   through    the    coach    doorway. 


26O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEX. 

Both  she  and  Francis  were  sitting  quite  undisturbed. 
The  jar  had,  in  fact,  not  been  sudden  to  them.  As 
Hal  knew,  they  had  expected  the  breakdown.  But 
his  dissembling  must  be  complete. 

"Here's  delay!"  put  in  Captain  Rumney,  most 
sympathetically  vexed. 

"Yes,"  said  Marryott,  very  dismally,  as  if  bereft 
of  hope.  His  wisest  course  lay  in  holding  the  plot 
ters  passive  by  making  them  think  they  had  al 
ready  accomplished  enough.  If  Mistress  Hazlehurst 
supposed  that  sufficient  delay  was  now  obtained,  she 
would  not  further  instigate  Rumney.  And  without 
instigation  Rumney  was  not  likely  to  invite  open 
warfare  at  a  place  only  two  miles  from  Keighley. 
In  fact,  he  would  not,  of  his  own  initiative,  have 
chosen  a  spot  so  near  a  town,  for  causing  the  break 
down,  which  might  result  in  tumult.  He  would  have 
waited  for  a  more  solitary  neighborhood.  He  was  of 
no  mind  for  needlessly  chancing  any  kind  of  violent 
contact  with  the  authorities.  Mistress  Hazlehurst, 
not  divining  his  feelings  on  this  point,  had  created 
the  opportunity  at  this  spot,  and  he  had  taken  the 
risk.  But  he  was  well  content  that  the  supposed 
Sir  Valentine  accused  him  not.  In  roads  more  re 
mote,  accusation  might  be  positively  welcome ;  but 
not  in  close  vicinity  to  a  centre  of  law  and  order. 

With  a  kind  of  vague,  general  sense  of  what  Cap 
tain  Rumney's  mental  attitude  must  be,  Marryott 


TREACHERY.  26 1 

felt  that  he  need  fear  no  interruption  to  the  plan  his 
mind  now  formed,  in  a  moment's  time,  for  an  early 
resumption  of  the  flight.  But  he  did  not  communi 
cate  this  plan  to  any  but  Anthony,  who  alone  was 
necessary  to  its  inauguration.  Even  Bottle  was  kept 
in  the  dark,  in  order  that  Rumney  might  not  find,  in 
being  excepted  from  a  council  of  leaders,  a  pretext 
for  subsequent  complaint. 

As  for  his  instructions  to  the  Puritan,  Hal  gave 
them  very  quickly,  in  whispers,  leaning  down  from 
his  saddle  to  approach  more  nearly  the  other's  ear. 

Anthony,  having  listened  without  speech  or  sign, 
remounted  his  horse,  rode  to  the  house  at  which  the 
breakfast  had  been  obtained,  and  made  a  few  brief 
inquiries  of  the  man  who  came  to  the  door. 

The  result  of  his  questions  was  evidently  not  satis 
factory  ;  for  he  rode  from  the  door,  shaking  his  head 
in  the  negative  to  Master  Marryott ;  and  forthwith 
cantered  off  through  the  falling  snow,  toward 
Keighley. 

Bottle,  who  had  sat  his  horse  in  silent  observation 
of  these  movements,  as  had  Rumney  also,  now 
glanced  at  Hal  as  if  to  question  the  propriety  of 
sending  the  Puritan  away. 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Hal,  reassuringly.  "  If  he  see  thy 
friend  Barnet  ere  he  find  what  he  seeks,  he  will  drop 
all  and  come  back  a-flying.  And  then  we  shall  meet 
Barnet,  or  dodge  him,  in  what  manner  we  must !  " 


262  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

It  has  been  told  that  Marryott  was  always  pre 
pared,  as  a  last  resource,  to  use  his  forces  in  resist 
ance  to  the  pursuivant.  A  close  meeting  was  to  be 
avoided  to  the  utmost,  however ;  not  only  for  its  un 
certainty  of  issue  to  the  immediate  participants,  but 
for  its  likelihood  of  informing  Barnet  that  the  pur 
sued  man  was  not  Sir  Valentine.  In  the  event  of 
that  disclosure,  Hal  saw  safety  for  his  mission  in  one 
desperate  course  ;  that  was,  to  kill  or  disable  the 
pursuivant  and  all  his  men.  But  such  a  feat  of  arms 
was  barely  within  possibility,  a  fact  which  made 
Master  Hal  extremely  unwilling  that  matters  should 
come  to  an  encounter.  Therefore  he  groaned  and 
fretted  inwardly  during  the  minutes  of  inaction  that 
followed  Anthony's  departure.  He  sought  relief 
from  thoughts  of  a  possible  combat  with  his  pur 
suers,  in  following  out  his  plan  for  his  forward  move 
ment  ;  and  saw  with  joy  that  the  very  method  he  had 
chosen  for  going  on  with  his  prisoner  was  the  better 
adapted  to  his  bearing  her  safely  off  from  Rumney 
in  case  of  a  conflict  with  that  gentleman. 

"  Have  your  men  take  their  horses  from  the  coach, 
Captain  Rumney,"  Hal  had  said  very  soon  after 
Anthony  had  departed.  The  words  were  spoken 
lightly,  not  as  if  they  accorded  with  a  plan,  but  as 
if  they  indeed  had  no  other  inspiration  than  was 
shown  when  Hal  added,  "  'Tis  no  use  now  keeping 
them  hitched  to  this  moveless  heap  of  lumber." 


TREACHERY.  263 

Prompt  obedience  had  been  given  to  an  order  so 
suggestive  of  greater  delay.  And  now  the  robbers 
idly  sat  their  horses,  jesting,  railing  at  one  another, 
grumbling,  and  some  of  them  wondering  in  dull 
discontent  whither  in  the  fiend's  name  they  were 
bound.  Anne  and  her  page  kept  their  places  in  the 
derelict  vehicle,  withholding  their  thoughts.  Bottle 
and  Rumney  rode  up  and  down,  saying  little.  They 
were  old  soldiers,  and  used  to  waiting.  Moreover, 
in  the  days  of  slow  transit,  patience  was  a  habit, 
especially  with  those  who  travelled. 

At  last  Anthony's  figure  reappeared,  rising  and 
falling  in  the  whirling  snow  as  his  movements 
obeyed  those  of  his  horse.  His  manner  showed 
that  he  did  not  bear  any  tidings  of  Barnet.  He 
brought  with  him  an  old  pillion  and  a  collection  of 
battered  hunting-horns,  the  former  behind  his  saddle, 
the  latter  all  slung  upon  a  single  cord.  It  was  to 
procure  these  things  that  he  had  gone  back  to 
Keighley,  where  there  were  saddlers,  innkeepers, 
hostlers,  smiths,  and  others  from  whom  such  articles 
were  to  be  had.  Hal's  companions  looked  with 
curiosity  at  these  acquisitions. 

Marryott  now  ordered  both  Anthony  and  Kit  to 
dismount.  He  then  had  the  horse  formerly  ridden 
by  Francis  led  back  to  the  coach  doorway.  Here 
he  caused  Bottle  to  hold  the  animal,  and  Anthony 
to  adjust  the  pillion  behind  the  saddle  thereon. 


264  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"Now,  mistress,"  said  Hal,  when  this  was  done, 
"pray  let  me  aid  you  to  the  pillion." 

From  her  seat  in  the  coach  she  did  not  move,  nor 
made  she  the  smallest  answer.  She  merely  cast  a 
look  at  Captain  Rumney. 

Hal  saw  the  need  of  swift  action  ;  delay  would 
give  her  mute  appeal  to  the  robber  time  to  take 
effect.  Summary  proceedings  would  bewilder  him. 

"Tom  Cobble,  hold  my  horse,"  he  said,  and  was 
afoot  in  an  instant.  In  another,  he  was  inside  the 
coach,  raising  Mistress  Hazlehurst  bodily  from  her 
seat,  and  conveying  her  out  of  the  doorway  tc  the 
pillion,  which  was  not  too  high  or  far  to  permit  his 
placing  her  upon  it.  Taken  quite  by  surprise,  she 
found  herself  on  horseback  ere  she  thought  to  brace 
herself  for  physical  resistance. 

"  The  cord,  Anthony,"  called  Hal.  The  Puritan 
threw  it  to  him,  having  already  unfastened  it  from 
the  hunting-horns.  Before  Mistress  Hazlehurst  had 
time  to  think  of  sliding  from  the  pillion  to  the  ground, 
Hal  had  her  waist  twice  encircled  by  the  cord,  of 
which  he  retained  both  ends.  He  then,  from  the 
coach  doorway,  mounted  the  saddle  in  front  of  her, 
brought  the  rope's  ends  together  before  him,  joined 
them  in  a  knot,  and  let  Kit  Bottle  lead  the  horse  a 
few  paces  forward  so  that  his  prisoner  might  not 
impede  matters  by  seizing  hold  of  the  coach. 

"  And  now  the  boy,  Anthony.    Carry  him  on  your 


TREACHERY.  26$ 

saddle-bow,"  said  Marryott.  The  Puritan,  reaching 
into  the  coach  with  both  arms,  laid  hold  of  the  page, 
and  placed  him  on  the  saddle-bow  ;  then,  at  a  gesture, 
mounted  behind  him. 

"Take  one  of  the  horns,  Kit,"  was  Hal's  next 
command.  "  Give  one  to  me,  one  to  Anthony,  one 
to  Captain  Rumney,  and  the  other  to  Tom  Cobble. 
John  Hatch,  lead  the  spare  horse.  And  now  all  to 
your  saddles.  Kit,  ride  at  the  head.  Anthony,  you 
shall  go  at  my  right  hand  ;  Tom  Cobble,  at  my  left. 
Captain  Rumney  shall  choose  his  place.  And  heed 
this,  all  of  you  :  When  I  sound  this  horn,  all  ye  that 
have  like  instruments,  blow  your  loudest  ;  the  rest, 
halloo  your  lustiest  ;  and  every  mother's  son  set  his 
horse  a-galloping  till  I  call  halt,  taking  heed  to  keep 
together.  And  now,  forward  !  " 

A  minute  later,  the  cavalcade  was  moving  through 
the  downcoming  flakes,  leaving  the  wrecked  coach 
to  bury  itself  in  the  snow. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst  could  not  but  see  her  captor's 
reason  for  the  order  of  which  a  blast  from  his  horn 
was  to  be  the  signal.  Now  that  she  was  no  longer 
concealed  in  the  coach,  it  would  be  easier  —  the 
temptation  would  be  greater  —  for  her  to  make  an 
outcry  when  passing  habitations.  The  noise  of  the 
horns  and  of  the  hallooing  would  drown  the  words 
she  might  utter,  and  the  galloping  would  rob  her 
gesticulations  of  their  intended  effect.  The  conduct 


266  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

of  the  whole  party  would  strike  beholders  as  the 
sportive  ebullition  of  a  company  of  merry  blades  bent 
on  astonishing  the  natives  ;  and  any  cries  or  motions 
she  might  make  would  seem,  in  the  flash  of  time 
while  they  might  be  witnessed,  but  of  a  piece  with 
the  behavior  of  her  boisterous  companions.  There 
were  roysterers  of  the  gentler  sex  in  those  days,  — 
witness  Mary  Frith,  otherwise  "  Moll  Cutpurse,"  who 
was  indeed  a  very  devil  of  a  fellow.28  Such  roaring 
women  were  not  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  quality  ; 
but  who  would  have  time  to  discern  her  quality  in  the 
brief  while  of  the  company's  mad  transit  through  such 
small  towns  as  lay  before  them  ? 

It  was  less  clear  to  her  why  her  enemy  should  have 
placed  her  on  the  same  horse  with  himself,  when 
he  might  have  bound  her  upon  another,  of  which  he 
could  have  retained  hold  of  the  bridle.  But  the  case 
was  thus  :  Though  a  possible  contest  with  Rumney 
or  Barnet  might  result  in  Hal's  own  personal  escape, 
such  a  contest  might,  were  she  on  another  horse, 
enable  her  to  free  herself,  and  either  make  disclosures 
fatal  to  Hal's  mission,  or  fall  prisoner  to  the  robber. 
But,  she  being  on  his  horse,  and  unable  to  act  inde 
pendently  of  him,  Hal's  escape  would  leave  her  still 
his  captive.  That  escape  he  must,  then,  contrive 
to  make.  He  thus  simplified  his  course  in  the 
event  of  an  encounter;  twined  two  threads  into 
one  ;  united  two  separate  lines  of  possible  befalling 


THE  KRAZEX  NOTES  CLOVE  THE  AIR." 


TREA  CHER  Y.  267 

—  his  line  and  hers  —  so  that  they  might  be  de 
termined  by  a  single,  concentrated  exertion  of  his 
own  prowess. 

Should  matters  so  shape  that  her  life  be  en 
dangered  by  her  position,  Hal  might,  at  the  last 
moment,  sever  with  his  dagger  the  cord  that  bound 
her  to  him.  She,  being  now  deprived  of  weapons, 
could  not  do  this. 

As  for  Francis,  stealthy  and  resolute  as  recent 
occurrences  had  shown  him  to  be,  there  was  nothing 
to  fear  from  him  while  he  bestrode  the  saddle-bow  of 
Anthony  Underbill. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  they  started  from  the 
abandoned  coach.  A  little  after  nine  they  passed 
through  Skipton.  The  town  was  half  invisible  through 
the  falling  snow,  which,  as  it  came,  was  the  sport  of 
the  same  wind  that  made  casements  rattle  and 
weather-cocks  creak,  and  street-folk  muffle  them 
selves  and  pay  small  heed  to  passing  riders. 

To  test  his  device  and  his  men,  Master  Marryott, 
when  half  way  through  the  town,  sounded  his  horn 
and  gave  his  horse  the  spur.  The  response,  from  all 
but  Captain  Rumney,  was  instant  and  hearty.  The 
brazen  notes  clove  the  air,  the  men  emitted  a  score 
of  unearthly  yells,  the  horses  dashed  forward ;  and 
the  clamor,  which  caused  the  few  snow-blinded  out 
door  folk  to  stare  blinkingly,  might  well  have  awak 
ened  the  ghosts  of  the  ancient  castle  of  the  Cliffords. 


268  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

But  neither  ghosts  nor  townspeople  stayed  the 
turbulent  strangers. 

When  Hal  ordered  a  cessation,  outside  the  town, 
he  found  that  the  men  were  in  the  better  humor  for 
the  little  outlet  to  their  pent-up  deviltry ;  all  with 
the  exception  of  Rumney,  who  had  galloped  with  the 
rest,  but  in  silence. 

Rumney  had  indeed  been  moody  since  the  abandon 
ment  of  the  coach.  He  had  kept  his  place  behind 
Marryott,  in  full  range  of  the  eyes  of  the  lady  on  the 
pillion,  who,  as  she  sat  sidewise,  could  look  back  at 
him  with  ease.  Her  glances,  eloquent  of  a  kind 
of  surprise  at  his  inaction,  gave  him  an  ill  opinion  of 
himself  which  he  soon  burned  to  revenge  upon  some 
one.  And  his  feelings  were  not  sweetened  by  his 
men's  good  humor  over  an  incident  from  which  he 
had  excluded  himself. 

Of  the  roads  from  Skipton,  Marryott  chose  that 
which  he  thought  would  take  him  soonest  into  the 
North  Riding.  The  cavalcade  had  gone  perhaps 
four  miles  upon  this  road,  when,  suddenly,  Captain 
Rumney  called  out  : 

"  Halt,  lads,  and  close  in  upon  this  quarry  !  " 

His  men  checked  their  horses,  some  with  surprise, 
some  as  if  the  order  might  have  been  expected. 
They  drew  their  blades,  too,  —  blades  of  every  va 
riety,  —  and  turned  their  horses  about. 

Captain    Bottle    instantly    urged    his    steed    back 


TREA  CHER  Y.  2  69 

toward  Hal,  charging  through  the  confusion  of 
plunging  horses  in  true  cavalry  fashion.  Marryott 
himself  wheeled  half  around  to  face  Rumney.  An 
thony  Underhill,  with  Francis  on  his  saddle-bow, 
grimly  menaced  the  robbers  who  had  turned. 

"  What  means  this,  Captain  Rumney  ?  "  said  Hal, 
quietly.  Every  sword  in  the  company  was  now 
unsheathed. 

"  It  means  that  I  cry,  stand  and  deliver  !  "  replied 
the  robber,  finding  all  needful  confidence  and  cour 
age  in  the  very  utterance  of  the  habitual  challenge. 
He  felt  himself  now  in  his  own  role,  and  feared 
nothing. 

"  Is  it  not  foolish,"  answered  Marryott,  without 
raising  his  voice,  "  to  risk  your  skin  thus,  for  the 
sake  of  money  that  would  be  yours  to-morrow  in 
payment  of  service?" 

"To  the  devil  with  your  money,  —  though  I'll 
have  that,  too,  ere  all's  done  !  First  deliver  me  the 
lady  !  " 

"  I  am  much  more  like  to  deliver  you  to  the 
flames  below  !  "  replied  Hal. 

"  Say  you  so  !  Upon  him,  boys  !  "  cried  Rumney, 
raising  a  pistol,  which  he  had  furtively  got  ready  to 
fire. 

Two  things  occurred  at  the  same  moment  :  An 
thony  Underhill  got  his  sword  engaged  with  that 
of  the  nearest  robber  who  had  moved  to  obey 


2/O  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Rumney's  order ;  and  Master  Marryott  struck  Rum- 
ney's  pistol  aside  with  his  rapier,  so  that  it  discharged 
itself  harmlessly  into  the  falling  snow. 

Hal's  next  movement  was  to  turn  Rumney's 
sword-point  with  his  dagger,  which  he  held  in  the 
same  hand  with  his  rein.  Behind  him,  Mistress 
Hazlehurst  clung  to  her  pillion,  in  a  state  of  mind 
that  may  be  imagined.  In  front  of  Anthony  Under- 
hill,  Francis,  the  page,  made  himself  small,  to  avoid 
a  possible  wild  thrust  from  the  fellow  that  contested 
with  the  Puritan. 

By  this  time  Kit  Bottle  had  reached  Anthony's 
side. 

"What,  ye  jolly  bawcocks  !  "  he  cried  to  the  rob 
bers,  his  sword-point  raised  aloft,  as  if  he  awaited  the 
result  of  his  words  ere  choosing  a  victim  for  it. 
"  Will  ye  follow  this  cheap  rascal  Rumney  'gainst 
gentlemen  ?  He'll  prove  traitor  to  you  all,  an  ye 
trust  him  long  enough  ;  as  he  did  to  me  in  the  Low 
Countries !  Mr.  Edward  Moreton,  and  honest  John 
Hatch,  and  good  Oliver  Bunch,  I  call  on  you  stand 
by  true  men  !  " 

"And  Tom  Cobble  !  "  shouted  Hal,  without  look 
ing  back  from  his  combat  with  Rumney,  which, 
although  it  was  now  one  of  rapiers,  they  continued 
to  wage  on  horseback.  "  You're  my  man,  I  wot ! 
A  raw  rustical  rogue  like  this,  is  not  fit  for  London 
lads  to  follow  !  " 


TREACHERY.  2/1 

"What  say  ye,  mates?"  cried  Tom  Cobble.  "I 
am  for  the  gentleman  !  " 

"  And  I  !  "  quoth  John  Hatch,  stoutly  ;  Ned 
Moreton,  airily  ;  Oliver  Bunch,  timidly ;  and  two 
or  three  others. 

"  A  murrain  on  gentlemen  ! "  roared  a  burly 
fellow,  and  a  chorus  of  approving  oaths  and  curses 
showed  that  a  majority  of  Rumney's  men  remained 
faithful  to  their  old  leader. 

"  Good,  my  hearts  !  "  cried  their  captain,  his  brow 
clearing  of  the  cloud  that  had  risen  at  the  first 
defection.  "  There  shall  be  the  more  pickings  for 
you  that  are  staunch  !  I'll  kill  every  deserter  !  " 

"  Look  to't  you  be  not  killed  yourself !  "  quoth 
Master  Marryott,  leaning  forward  to  keep  the  area 
of  steel-play  far  from  Mistress  Hazelhurst. 

Rumney  had  exchanged  his  emptied  pistol  for  a 
dagger,  and  he  imitated  Hal  in  using  it  with  the  hand 
that  held  his  rein.  In  rapier-and-dagger  fights,  the 
long  weapon  was  used  for  thrusting,  the  short  one 
for  parrying.  Such  contests  were  not  for  horseback. 
When  mounted  enemies  met,  so  armed,  they  would 
ordinarily  dismount  and  fight  afoot.  But  Marryott 
was  determined  not  to  separate  himself  from  his 
prisoner,  and  Rumney  chose  to  remain  in  readiness 
for  pursuit  in  case  his  antagonist  should  resort  to 
flight. 

So  this  unique  duel  went  on,  —  a  single  combat 


2/2  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

with  rapier  and  dagger,  on  horseback,  one  of  the 
contestants  sharing  his  horse  with  a  lady  on  a  pillion 
behind  him  !  The  combat  remained  single  because 
Rumney's  men  had  all  they  could  do  in  defending 
themselves  against  the  vigorous  attack  of  Kit  Bottle, 
Anthony  Underbill,  and  the  deserters  from  their  own 
band. 

These  deserters,  knowing  that  the  defeat  of  the 
side  they  had  taken  would  leave  them  at  the  mercy 
of  the  Rumney  party,  fought  with  that  fury  which 
comes  of  having  no  alternative  but  victory  or  death. 
There  was  not  an  idle  or  a  shirking  sword  to  be 
found  on  either  side.  Each  man  chose  his  particular 
antagonist,  and  when  one  combatant  had  worsted  his 
opponent  he  found  another  or  went  to  the  aid  of  a 
comrade.  In  the  narrow  roadway,  in  blinding  flakes, 
and  with  mingled  cries  of  pain,  rage,  and  elation, 
these  riders  plied  their  weapons  one  against  another, 
until  blood  dripped  in  many  places  on  the  fallen  snow 
that  was  tramped  by  the  rearing  horses. 

The  strange  miniature  battle,  fought  in  a  place 
out  of  sight  of  human  habitation,  and  with  no  wit 
nesses  but  the  two  prisoners  so  dangerously  placed 
for  viewing  it,  lasted  for  ten  minutes.  Then  Master 
Marryott,  whose  adroitness,  sureness,  and  swiftness 
had  begun  to  appall  and  confuse  Rumney,  ran  his 
rapier  through  the  latter's  sword-arm. 

With  a  loud  exclamation,  the  robber  dropped  the 


TREACHERY.  2/3 

arm  to  his  side,  and  backed  his  horse  out  of  reach 
with  his  left  hand. 

But  Hal,  with  a  fierce  cry  "  Talk  you  of  killing  ?  " 
spurred  his  horse  forward  as  if  to  finish  with  the 
rascal.  This  was  a  pretence,  but  it  worked  its  pur 
pose. 

"  Quarter,"  whimpered  the  robber  captain,  pale 
with  fear. 

"  Then  call  off  your  hounds !  "  replied  Hal,  hotly, 
checking  his  horse. 

"  I  will,"  answered  the  trembling  Rumney,  quickly. 
"  Lads,  a  truce!  Put  up  your  swords,  curse  you  !  " 

His  men  were  not  sorry  to  get  this  order,  nor 
their  opponents  to  hear  it  given.  The  fight  had 
gone  too  evenly  to  please  either  side,  and  wounds  — 
some  of  them  perhaps  destined  to  prove  fatal  —  had 
bee'n  nearly  equally  distributed.  Hal's  adherents 
ceased  fighting  when  their  foes  did,  Kit  Bottle  being 
the  last,  and  probably  the  only  reluctant  one,  to 
desist. 

"And  now  you  will  turn  back,  Master  Rumney," 
said  Marryott,  in  a  hard,  menacing  tone,  "and  find 
another  road  to  travel !  Take  with  you  the  knaves 
that  stood  by  you.  The  others,  an  they  choose,  shall 
remain  my  men,  in  my  pay.  Come,  you  rogues, 
march  !  " 

Master  Marryott  backed  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
that  Rumney's  followers  might  pass.  They  did  so, 


2/4  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

readily  enough,  those  who  were  unhorsed  being 
lifted  to  saddles  by  their  comrades.  Until  the  two 
parties  were  distinctly  separated,  and  several  paces 
were  between  them,  every  weapon  and  every  eye  on 
either  side  remained  on  the  alert  to  meet  treachery. 
All  the  deserters  from  Rumney  stayed  with  Hal. 

" '  God  bless  you,  Ancient  Rumney,'  "  called  out 
Kit  Bottle,  slightly  altering  a  remembered  speech 
from  a  favorite  play,  as  the  robber  turned  his  horse's 
head  toward  Skipton.  "  '  You  scurvy,  lousy  knave, 
God  bless  you  ! ' ' 

Rumney  and  his  men  rode  for  some  distance  with 
out  answer ;  Hal  and  his  company,  motionless,  look 
ing  after  them.  Suddenly,  when  he  was  beyond 
easy  overtaking,  the  robber  leader  turned  in  his 
saddle,  and  shouted  back,  vindictively : 

"  I  scorn  you,  Kit  Bottle !  You  are  no  better 
than  an  Irish  footboy !  And  your  master  there  is  a 
woman-stealing  dog,  that  I'll  be  quits  with  yet.  He's 
no  gentleman,  neither,  but  a  scurvy  fencing-master 
in  false  feathers  !  " 

"  Shall  I  give  chase  and  make  him  eat  his  words  ? " 
asked  Kit  of  Master  Marryott. 

"  Nay,  the  cur  that  whines  for  mercy,  and  receives 
it,  and  then  snarls  back  at  a  safe  distance,  is  too 
foul  for  thy  hands,  Kit !  Let  those  fellows  on  the 
ground  be  put  on  horses  and  supported  till  we  find 
a  safe  place  for  them.  I'll  not  abandon  any  that 


TREACHERY.  2?$ 

stood  by  me.  And  then,  onward  !  Madam,  I  trust 
you  were  not  incommoded.  Your  page,  I  see,  is 
safe." 

Mistress  Hazlehurst  deigned  no  answer.  Her  feel 
ings  were  wrapped  in  a  cloak  of  outward  composure. 

The  wounded  men  were  soon  made  safe  upon 
horses,  and  the  northward  journey  was  again  in 
progress. 

"  I  thank  heaven  we  are  rid  of  Captain  Rumney  !  " 
said  Hal  to  Kit  Bottle,  who  now  rode  beside  him, 
Anthony  having  taken  the  lead. 

"I  would  thank  heaven  more  heartily,  an  I  were 
sure  we  were  rid  of  him  !  "  growled  Kit,  blinking  at 
the  snowflakes. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

FOXBY    HALL. 

"  O  most  delicats  fiend  !  Who  is't  can  read  a  woman  ?  "  —  Cymbeline. 

THE  forenoon  on  which  this  fray  and  separation 
occurred  was  that  of  Saturday,  March  seventh,  the 
fourth  day  of  the  flight.  Marryott's  company  now 
consisted  of  his  two  original  followers,  his  two  pris 
oners,  Ned  Moreton,  Tom  Cobble,  Oliver  Bunch, 
John  Hatch,  and  a  few  more  of  the  robbers.  What 
wounds  had  been  received  were  bound  up  as  well  as 
possible,  with  strips  torn  from  clothing,  and  were  so 
stoically  endured  as  not  to  impede  the  forward  jour 
ney.  The  able-bodied  rode  by  the  disabled,  giving 
them  needful  support. 

Marryott  had  travelled  some  two  hundred  miles 
from  Fleetwood  house  in  three  and  a  half  days, 
accomplishing  an  average  of  nearly  sixty  miles  a  day, 
despite  all  delays  and  the  slow  going  of  the  coach. 
Now  that  the  storm  had  come  up,  to  make  the  roads 
well-nigh  impassable,  it  would  take  a  rider  at  least 
three  and  a  half  days  to  return  from  Hal's  present 
place  to  Fleetwood  house.  Thus,  even  if  the  pur- 

276 


FOX  BY  HALL.  2/7 

suivant  should  overtake  the  fugitives  at  any  moment, 
seven  days  were  already  gained  for  Sir  Valentine. 
Another  day  and  a  half  would,  under  the  storm- 
caused  conditions  of  travel,  procure  him  the  full  ten 
days. 

Now,  before  the  beginning  of  the  storm,  Roger 
Barnet,  had  he  gone  at  the  speed  for  which  the  men 
of  his  office  were  then  proverbial  ("  like  flying  pur 
suivant  "  is  Spenser's  simile  for  swift-moving  angels), 
would  have  overtaken  a  traveller  hampered  as  Hal 
was.  But  it  happened  —  so  prone  is  circumstance 
to  run  to  coincidence,  as  every  man  perceives  daily 
in  his  own  life  —  that  Roger  Barnet,  too,  had  his 
special  hindrances.  That  part  of  the  chase  which 
had  culminated  in  his  almost  catching  Hal  at  the 
hostelry  near  the  Newark  cross-road,  had  been  delayed 
at  the  outset  by  the  delivery  of  the  queen's  letters. 
And  in  the  subsequent  pursuit,  when  Hal's  several 
impediments  had  given  the  pursuivant  the  best 
opportunities,  Master  Barnet  had  suffered  most 
annoying  checks. 

Of  these,  there  were  those  that  Hal  had  con 
jectured  ;  but,  in  addition,  there  was  a  bodily  accident 
to  no  less  a  person  than  Master  Barnet  himself.  In 
that  very  village  of  Clown,  where  Hal  had  been  de 
tained  by  the  constable,  an  exhausted  horse  had 
fallen  at  the  moment  when  the  pursuivant  was  dis 
mounting  from  it,  and  had  so  bruised  the  pursuivant's 


278  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

leg  that  he  had  been  perforce  laid  up  at  the  ale 
house  for  some  hours,  unable  to  stand,  or  to  sit  his 
saddle.  For  his  own  reasons,  of  which  a  hint  has 
been  given  earlier  in  this  narrative,  he  had  not 
allowed  his  men  to  continue  the  chase  without  him  ; 
but  he  had  resumed  it  at  the  first  moment  when  he 
could  endure  the  pain  of  riding. 

Of  this  interference  of  fortune  in  his  behalf,  Mas 
ter  Marryott  knew  nothing,  as  he  and  his  riders  toiled 
forward  through  the  blown  clouds  of  snow.  He  took 
it  on  faith  that  the  pursuivant,  obliged  by  duty  and 
enabled  by  skill,  was  following  through  similar  clouds 
somewhere  behind.  He  would  not,  at  this  stage, 
give  a  moment's  room  to  any  thought  opposed  to 
this. 

The  travellers  covered  thirty  miles  or  more,  through 
unremitting  snowfall  and  increasing  wind  ;  passing 
Rylston,  Cumiston,  Kettlewell,  Carlton,  Middleham, 
and  Harmby,  —  names,  some  of  which  have  lost  their 
old  importance,  some  of  which  have  given  place  to 
others,  some  of  which  have  quite  vanished  from  the 
map,  —  stopping  twice  for  food,  drink,  and  to  rest  the 
horses.  In  the  inhabited  places,  the  riders  were  too 
much  obscured  by  snow,  the  people  outdoors  were  too 
few,  for  Mistress  Hazlehurst  to  place  any  hope  in  an 
appeal  for  rescue.  Nevertheless,  to  hearten  his  men 
up,  and  to  leave  the  deeper  trace  for  Barnet  to  follow, 
Marryott  went  through  these  places  at  a  gallop,  with 


FOXBY  HALL. 
great  noise  of  voices  and  horns.      Strange  must  have 

o  c* 

been  the  spectacle  to  gaping  villagers  drawn  to  case 
ments  by  the  advancing  clamor,  when  this  mad  band 
of  riders  —  one  of  them  a  woman  —  dashed  into 
sight,  as  if  borne  by  the  wind  like  the  snow  clouds, 
rushed  by  with  blast  and  shout,  and  disappeared  into 
the  white  whirl  as  they  had  come ! 

All  through  the  afternoon  Mistress  Hazlehurst 
was  silent,  close-wrapped  in  cloak  and  hood.  She 
accepted  with  barely  uttered  thanks  the  ale  and  food 
that  Master  Marryott  caused  Kit  Bottle  to  bring  her 
from  the  rude  inns  near  which  they  stopped.  Hal 
showed  his  solicitude,  at  first,  in  brief  and  courteous 
inquiries  regarding  her  comfort ;  then,  as  these  were 
answered  either  not  at  all,  or  in  the  coldest  mono 
syllables,  in  glances  over  his  shoulder.  Was  her 
inertia,  he  asked  himself,  a  sign  that  she  had  given  up 
the  battle  ?  —  or  a  sign  that  she  was  nourishing  some 
new  plan,  sufficiently  subtle  to  fit  the  new  circum 
stances  ? 

During  the  afternoon,  Kit  Bottle  rode  often  among 
the  men  from  Rumney's  band,  talking  with  them, 
and  seeing  how  the  wounded  bore  themselves. 

As  the  riders  passed  in  sight  of  Middleham  castle, 
whose  wind-beaten  walls,  with  their  picturesque  back 
ground  of  Nature's  setting,  were  now  scarce  visible 
behind  the  driven  nebules  of  snow,  Kit  brought  his 
horse  close  to  Hal's,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice  : 


280  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Some  of  those  fellows  have  ugly  little  cuts. 
They  would  fare  better  under  roof,  and  on  their  backs, 
than  on  horse,  in  this  weather." 

"  But  where  may  they  be  left  ? "  asked  Hal. 
"What  yeoman  or  hind  would  take  them  under 
shelter  ?  And  the  inns  where  their  robber-skins 
would  be  safe,  look  you,  are  those  where  Rumney  is 
a  favored  guest.  If  he  should  come  and  find  them, 
how  many  three-farthing  pieces  would  their  lives  be 
worth,  think  you  ?  " 

"  Thou  speakest  by  the  card  there,  God  wot !  But 
I  have  in  mind  a  shelter  where  these  honest  knaves 
can  lie  safe,  and  where  we  all  may  snatch  an  hour  or 
two  of  comfort.  This  Oliver  Bunch  hath  turned 
himself  inside  out  to  me.  The  lands  where  he  was 
under-steward,  before  the  family  fled  to  France  for 
their  necks'  sake,  are  five  or  six  mile  ahead  of  us. 
The  mansion,  he  tells  me,  is  closed  tight,  and  empty. 
Whether  confiscation  hath  been  made,  I  know  not ; 
but,  be  the  place  the  crown's,  or  some  one's  else  by 
gift  or  purchase,  there  it  now  stands  for  our  use, 
without  e'en  bailiff  or  porter  to  say  us  nay.  'Tis 
called  Foxby  Hall." 

"  If  it  be  so  tight  closed  that  others  have  not 
entered,  for  thievery  or  shelter,  how  can  we  get 
in  ? " 

"  With  a  key  that  this  Bunch  hath  hid  in  a  safe 
hole  in  the  wall.  It  opens  a  side  door.  He  hath  kept 


FOXBY  HALL.  28 1 

his  secret,  for  love  of  his  old  place  of  service,  till  this 
hour." 

"  He  is  a  very  worthy  rascal,  truly.  Well,  let  us 
make  the  better  haste  to  this  house,  that  we  may 
have  the  more  time  to  tarry  in  it.  Foxby  Hall,  say 
you  ?  I  like  the  name  ;  it  hath  a  sound  of  hospitable 
walls  amidst  the  greenwood." 

Speed  was  made,  therefore ;  and  about  five 
o'clock,  while  the  snow  still  fell  unceasingly,  the 
riders  came  to  a  place  where,  on  one  hand,  the  road 
was  flanked  by  varied  and  well-wooded  country,  and 
where,  on  the  other  hand,  there  ran  for  some  dis 
tance  a  wooden  fence,  beyond  which  there  were  at  first 
fields,  and  then  the  stately  trees  of  a  park.  The 
fence  was  finally  succeeded  by  a  stone  wall,  at  a  point 
where  a  similar  wall  ran  back  at  right  angle  with  the 
first.  The  wall  along  the  road  had  in  its  middle  a 
broken-down  gate.  Before  this  gate  Oliver  Bunch 
stopped ;  and,  with  a  look  at  Kit  Bottle,  pointed 
through  it. 

When  Hal  drew  up  his  horse,  and  looked  into  the 
grounds  to  which  the  gate  afforded  entrance,  he  saw, 
some  way  up  a  thinly-wooded  slope,  a  turreted  and 
gabled  building.  From  its  main  front,  which  was 
parallel  with  the  road,  two  wings  projected  forward. 
These  three  parts  enclosed  three  sides  of  a  square  : 
the  fourth  side  was  bounded  by  a  little  terrace, 
which  descended  toward  the  road,  and  at  whose  foot 


282  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

ran  a  second  wall,  quite  low,  across  part  of  the 
grounds. 

The  main  front,  which  had  two  gables,  was  partly 
of  stone,  partly  of  wood  and  plaster.  The  wings, 
more  recent,  were  of  brick ;  they  were  flanked  by 
turrets,  and  their  ends  were  gabled.  The  windows 
of  the  main  front  were  high,  narrow,  and  pointed  at 
the  tops  ;  those  of  the  wings  also  were  high,  but  they 
were  wide  and  rectangular.  There  was  a  porched 
Gothic  door  in  the  middle  of  the  main  front ;  and 
one  of  the  wings,  in  its  inner  side,  had  a  smaller 
door.  A  basin  for  a  fountain  was  in  the  centre  of 
the  square.  Tall  trees  grew  on  the  terrace. 

"  It  hath  an  inviting  look,"  said  Master  Marryott. 
"  But  'tis  far  from  the  road.  Were  Barnet  sighted, 
we  could  scarce  get  to  horse  and  reach  the  gate  ere 
he  arrived." 

"  An't  please  your  worship,"  put  in  Oliver  Bunch, 
deferentially,  "  the  house  hath  a  way  through  the 
park,  to  a  gate  further  on  the  road.  'Tis  a  shorter 
way  to  the  north  than  the  road  itself  is,  sir,  for  it 
runs  straight  from  the  stables,  while  the  road  goes 
somewhat  roundabout." 

"  Then  seek  your  key,  good  Oliver  Bunch ;  and 
heaven  grant  it  be  safe  in  its  hiding-place  !  " 

The  fat  household  servant  of  former  days  slid  from 
his  horse  with  unwonted  alacrity,  and  disappeared 
through  the  gate,  gliding  thence  along  the  inner  side 


FOX  BY  HALL.  283 

of  the  wall.  He  soon  returned  with  sparkling  eyes, 
holding  up  the  key. 

"  Lead  Oliver's  horse,  Kit,"  said  Hal.  "  Let  him 
show  us  the  way,  afoot.  Yon  turret  window  hath  a 
long  view  of  the  road.  We  can  keep  watch  there  for 
Barnet." 

The  worthy  Bunch,  gazing  fondly  at  the  deserted 
mansion  amidst  the  trees,  hastened  up  the  gentle 
incline  of  land,  followed  by  the  riders.  All  looked 
with  curious  eyes  upon  the  house  as  they  ascended. 
The  horse-path,  after  passing  through  an  alley  of 
neglected  hedgerows,  skirted  the  terrace,  and  led 
across  one  side  of  the  square  court  to  the  Gothic 
main  door. 

Bidding  the  riders  halt  there,  Bunch  traversed  the 
other  side  of  the  court,  and  vanished  behind  the 
angle  of  a  wing.  For  some  minutes  the  company 
waited  in  expectation,  Hal  watching  Mistress  Hazle- 
hurst  as  her  gaze  slowly  ranged  the  exterior  of  the 
house.  At  last  an  unchaining,  unbarring,  unbolting, 
and  key-turning  were  heard  from  within  the  door. 
Then  it  swung  heavily  inward,  with  a  creak,  and 
Oliver  Bunch  appeared  with  a  welcoming  face. 

"  Anthony,  you  will  look  to  the  stabling  of  the 
horses,"  said  Master  Marryott.  "  Oliver  Bunch,  be 
so  kind  to  show  him  where  that  may  be  done.  Tom 
Cobble,  take  you  charge  of  the  boy,  and  follow  me 
into  the  house.  Master  Moreton,  have  the  able  fel- 


284  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

lows  help  in  the  wounded.  Captain  Bottle,  find  you 
the  turret  window  of  yonder  wing,  and  watch  there 
till  I  send  word.  Come  to  this  door,  Anthony  and 
Oliver,  as  soon  as  the  horses  be  in  shelter ;  I  shall 
have  commands,  regarding  their  comfort  and  our 
own.  Madam,  I  pray  you  dismount  and  enter!  " 

Hal  had  swiftly,  on  finishing  his  orders  to  the 
men,  untied  the  cord  that  bound  him  to  his  prisoner, 
and  had  leaped  to  the  ground,  holding  in  one  hand 
the  loose  ends. 

She  accepted  his  hand  mechanically,  in  descending 
from  the  pillion,  and  then  preceded  him  into  the 
hall  of  the  mansion. 

This  was  a  large,  lofty  apartment,  with  a  timber 
roof,  a  great  fireplace,  walls  hung  with  old  tapestry 
and  armor,  and  a  stairway  ascending  along  the  rear. 
In  a  corner  some  trestles  and  boards  remained  as 
evidence  of  the  last  feast  upon  which  the  woven, 
many-colored  hunting  party  in  the  arras  had  looked 
down. 

Marryott  sat  beside  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  on  a 
bench  by  the  empty  fireplace,  and  watched  Moreton 
and  Hatch  help  the  wounded  men  to  a  pile  of  rushes 
at  one  side  of  the  hall.  By  the  time  that  Anthony 
and  Oliver  had  returned,  Hal  had  made  plans  for  the 
next  few  hours.  He  had  travelled  so  rapidly  since 
morning,  that  he  thought  he  might  make  this  man 
sion  his  stopping-place  for  as  much  of  the  night 


FOXBY  HALL.  285 

as  he  should  take  for  rest.  Beginning  the  nightly 
halt  at  five,  instead  of  at  eight,  he  might  set  forth 
again  at  twelve  instead  of  at  three ;  unless,  of  course, 
an  alarm  of  pursuit  should  send  him  to  the  saddle  in 
the  meanwhile. 

This  plan  would  obviate  the  difficulty  he  had  an 
ticipated  of  finding  a  suitable  night's  lodging  for  his 
prisoner.  As  the  next  day  would  be  the  fifth  and 
last  of  his  flight,  that  difficulty  would  not  recur  after 
to-night.  He  saw,  with  elation,  the  end  of  his  mis 
sion  at  hand ;  and  at  the  same  time,  with  a  feeling  of 
blankness  and  chill,  the  end  of  his  fellowship  with 
Mistress  Hazlehurst.  But  meanwhile  there  was  the 
immediate  future,  for  which  he  thus  arranged  : 

He  learned  from  Oliver  Bunch  that  there  was  an 
inn  some  distance  beyond  where  the  park  path  joined 
the  highroad.  To  that  inn  he  sent  Anthony  Under 
bill  for  provisions.  Going  and  returning  by  the 
park  way,  which  the  travellers  would  use  in  a 
hasty  flight,  the  Puritan  would  meet  them  in  case 
of  such  flight  during  his  absence. 

Marryott  then  set  his  men  to  fetching  logs  and 
making  fires  :  one  in  the  great  hall,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  injured  robbers  ;  one  in  an  upper  chamber 
that  he  chose,  upon  Oliver's  description,  for  Mistress 
Hazlehurst's  use  ;  and  a  third  in  the  large  room  from 
which  this  chamber  had  its  only  entrance. 

Guided  by  Oliver,  Hal  conducted  his  unresisting 


286  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

prisoner  up  the  stairs,  thence  through  a  corridor  that 
made  a  rectangular  turn,  thence  into  the  large  room, 
and  to  the  threshold  of  her  chamber.  He  gave  per 
mission,  unasked,  that  Francis  might  wait  upon  her, 
but  stationed  Tom  Cobble  in  the  large  room  with 
instructions  to  follow  the  page  wherever  the  latter 
went  outside  her  chamber,  and  to  restrict  his  move 
ments  to  the  house  itself.  Having  heard  these  orders 
and  made  no  comment,  Mistress  Hazlehurst  beckoned 
the  page  to  follow,  and  disappeared  into  the  chamber. 

Hal  had  chosen  as  his  own  resting-place  the  large 
outer  room.  It  was  in  the  same  wing  with  the  turret 
to  which  he  had  sent  Kit  Bottle  to  keep  watch.  Per 
ceiving  that  the  great  embayed  window  of  the  room 
gave  as  good  a  view  of  the  southward  road  as  the 
turret  itself  could  give,  Hal  summoned  Kit,  and  sent 
him  to  stay  with  the  robbers  in  the  hall  below.  The 
captain  might  sleep,  if  he  chose  ;  he  had  kept  vigil 
the  previous  night.  Hal  would  now  watch  from  the 
window,  until  Anthony's  return  ;  then  the  Puritan 
should  go  on  guard. 

Tom  Cobble  sat,  half  asleep,  on  a  chest  at  one 
side  of  the  door  to  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  chamber. 
Marryott  reclined  on  the  window-seat,  looking  now 
through  the  casement  at  the  snow-covered,  rolling, 
grove-dotted  country  ;  now  at  the  blazing,  crackling 
logs  in  the  fireplace  opposite  ;  now  at  the  tapestry, 
which  sometimes  stirred  in  the  wind  that  entered  by 


FOX  BY  HALL.  28? 

cracks  of  door  and  window.  The  room  was  well  fur 
nished,  as  indeed  most  of  the  house  was,  for  its 
occupants,  whatever  the  cause  of  their  flight  from 
the  country,  had  valued  haste  above  property.  They 
had  not  even  taken  all  their  trunks  ;  for  one  of  these 
stood  in  the  room  as  a  piece  of  furniture,  in  accord 
ance  with  the  custom  of  the  time.  This  apartment 
had  probably  served  as  a  ladies'  room.  It  had  a  case 
of  books ;  a  table  on  which  were  some  scattered 
playing-cards,  and  a  draughts-board  with  the  pieces 
in  the  position  of  an  unfinished  game ;  and  another 
table,  on  which  lay  an  open  virginal,  a  viol,  and 
smaller  musical  instruments.  The  chairs  were  heavy 
and  solid.  Overhead  was  visible  the  timber  work  of 
the  roof. 

Marryott  went  and  examined  the  viol,  and,  return 
ing  to  the  window-seat,  drew  from  it  a  few  tremulous 
strains.  As  he  was  adjusting  the  strings,  he  heard 
a  sound  at  the  end  of  the  apartment,  looked  up,  and 
saw,  to  his  surprise,  that  Mistress  Hazlchurst  was 
returning.  Francis  followed  her.  Her  face  showed 
the  refreshing  effect  of  the  cold  water  with  which 
Oliver  had  supplied  her  room.  Hal  watched  her  in 
silence. 

Motioning  Francis  to  sit  by  the  fire,  she  crossed 
to  the  music-table,  sat  down  before  it,  and  touched 
the  keys  of  the  virginal.  The  response  showed  the 
work  of  weather  and  neglect  upon  the  instrument ; 


288  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

but  after  twice  or  thrice  running  her  fingers  up  and 
down  the  short  keyboard,  she  elicited  the  notes  of  a 
soft  and  pensive  melody. 

After  a  while  of  silent  listening,  Marryott  gently 
took  up  the  melody  upon  his  viol.  For  an  instant 
he  was  fearful  that  she  might  break  off  at  this,  but 
she  played  on,  at  first  as  if  not  heeding  his  uninvited 
participation,  and  at  last  accommodating  her  own 
playing,  where  the  effect  required,  to  his. 

From  one  tune  they  went  to  another,  and  then  to 
a  third  and  fourth.  At  first  it  was  she  that  led  in 
the  transition  ;  but,  at  length,  having  ventured  with 
some  trepidation  to  pass,  of  his  own  initiative,  from 
one  piece  to  another,  he  had  the  delight  of  being 
immediately  accompanied  by  her.  There  was  in  her 
first  note,  it  was  true,  an  instant's  dragging,  as  if 
she  hesitated  under  the  protest  of  certain  feelings, 
but  finally  the  yielding  was  complete,  the  accompani 
ment  in  perfect  accord.  Thereafter  it  was  he  that 
led,  she  that  followed. 

What  might  he  infer  from  this  ?  Aught  beyond 
the  mere  outward  appearance,  the  mere  indifferent 
willingness  to  join  in  a  musical  performance  for 
the  sake  of  the  aural  pleasure  ?  Or  was  there  signi 
fied  an  inner,  perhaps  unconscious,  yielding  of  the 
woman's  nature  to  the  man's  ?  Was  his  domination 
over  her,  begun,  and  hitherto  maintained,  by  physical 
force,  at  last  obtaining  the  consent  of  her  heart  ? 


fOX BY  HALL. 

Marryott  dared  not  think  so ;  he  recoiled  in  horror 
from  the  thought,  when  he  saw  himself,  with  her 
eyes,  as  her  brother's  supposed  slayer.  And  then, 
still  viewing  himself  with  her  eyes,  he  was  fascinated 
by  that  very  situation  from  which  he  had  recoiled. 
It  was,  of  course,  as  she  must  regard  it,  a  tragic 
situation ;  in  that  circumstance  lay  both  its  horror 
and  its  fascination. 

But  did  this  situation  exist  ?  When  he  remem 
bered  that  the  mere  attraction  of  the  one  woman  for 
the  one  man,  or  the  one  man  for  the  one  woman, 
ofttimes  annihilates  all  opposing  considerations,  he 
knew  that  this  situation  was  not  impossible.  To  be 
loved  by  this  woman,  even  across  the  abyss  of  blood 
she  saw  between  them  !  The  idea  possessed  and 
repossessed  him,  though  again  and  again  he  put  it 
from  him  as  horrible,  or  improbable,  or  both.  Per 
haps  he  spoke  his  thoughts  in  the  notes  he  drew 
from  his  viol ;  perhaps  she  spoke  thoughts  of  her 
own  in  the  language  of  the  virginal ;  perhaps  they 
spoke  unconsciously  to  each  other's  deepest  hid 
den  comprehension  ;  neither  could  outwardly  analyze 
an  impression  received  from  the  other's  playing,  or 
certainly  know  whether  that  impression  had  been 
intended. 

The  day  faded.  The  snow  fell  between  the  win 
dow  and  the  trees  of  the  park ;  fell  as  thick  as  ever, 
but  more  slowly  and  gently  now,  the  wind  being  at 


2QO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

less  unrest.  The  firelight  danced  oddly  on  the 
tapestry,  the  shadows  deepened  in  its  brighter  radi 
ance.  Not  a  word  was  uttered.  Only  the  viol  and 
the  virginal  spoke. 

This  strange  concert  was  interrupted,  at  last,  by 
the  return  of  Anthony  and  Oliver,  with  a  supply  of 
cheese,  spice-cakes,  and  apples,  a  bottle  of  wine,  a 
large  pot  of  ale,  and  a  bag  of  feed  for  the  horses. 
Marryott  caused  the  wine  and  a  part  of  the  food  to 
be  brought  to  the  room  in  which  he  sat.  The  ale 
and  other  provisions  were  served  to  the  men  in  the 
hall.  Anthony,  after  supping,  and  seeing  the  horses 
fed,  was  to  keep  the  usual  vigil  on  the  road,  as 
approaching  horsemen  might  not  be  seen  from  the 
window  after  dark,  and  as  the  Puritan  had  slept 
the  previous  night. 

"Will  you  sup  in  your  chamber,  or  with  me  at 
this  table  ? "  Hal  asked  his  prisoner. 

Without  speaking  she  pointed  to  the  table  on 
which  Oliver  Bunch  had  set  the  eatables.  It  was 
that  on  which  the  cards  and  draughts-board  were. 
As  the  viands,  with  the  glasses  and  plate  that  Bunch 
had  furnished,  occupied  only  the  table's  end  next  the 
fire,  the  draughts-board  was  not  disturbed.  Captor 
and  captive  sat  opposite  each  other,  as  they  had 
sat  in  the  inn  near  the  Newark  cross-road.  Tom 
and  Francis,  having  lighted  a  candle-end  brought  by 
Oliver,  stood  to  wait  on  them ;  but  Hal,  handing 


FOXBY  HALL.  2QI 

them  a  platter  on  which  was  a  good  portion  of  the 
supper,  bade  them  go  to  another  part  of  the  room 
and  wait  on  themselves.  He  gave  them  also  a  glass 
of  the  wine,  reserving  the  rest,  with  a  single  glass, 
for  his  prisoner  and  himself. 

The  meal  went  in  silence.  Darkness  fell  over  the 
outer  world.  The  candle  added  little  light  to  that 
of  the  fire  ;  hence  much  of  the  room  was  shadowy. 
Only  the  table  near  the  fire,  where  the  two  sat, 
was  in  the  glow.  Marry ott  would  have  spoken,  but 
a  spell  had  fallen  upon  him  like  that  which  had 
locked  his  lips  on  the  first  day  of  their  travelling. 
Sometimes  he  sighed,  and  looked  at  her  wistfully. 
When  his  eyes  met  hers,  she  would  glance  down 
ward,  but  without  disdain  or  dislike. 

What  was  in  her  thoughts  ?  What  was  her  mind 
toward  him  ?  He  sought  answer  in  her  face,  but  in 
vain.  When  it  came  to  drinking  from  the  same  glass 
he  used,  she  did  so,  in  obedience  to  custom,  with  no 
sign  of  antipathy  or  scruple. 

Supper  over,  Marryott  idly  turned  to  the  cards 
lying  near  at  hand.  Three  of  them  faced  up 
ward.  He  grasped  these,  and  held  them  between 
thumb  and  forefinger  in  the  light.  It  was  strange. 
They  were  the  knave  of  hearts,  the  queen  of 
spades,  the  eight  of  clubs, — a  fair  man,  a  dark 
woman,  a  battle.  Mistress  Hazlehurst  gave  him  a 
glance  signifying  that  she  noted  the  coincidence. 


A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

He  reached  for  one  of  the  cards  that  lay  face  down 
ward,  thinking  it  might  foretell  the  issue  of  the  bat 
tle.  It  was  the  nine  of  clubs,  —  more  battle.  He 
smiled  amusedly,  and  looked  at  her  ;  but  her  face  told 
nothing.  He  turned  to  the  draughts-board,  which 
was  portable,  and  carefully  drew  it  nearer  without 
displacing  any  of  the  pieces.  There  \vere  four 
of  each  color  left  on  the  board.  At  first  glance 
one  could  not  see  that  either  side  had  advan 
tage.  Hal  observed,  under  his  lashes,  that  Mistress 
Hazlehurst's  look  had  fallen,  with  slight  curiosity, 
upon  the  board.  He  made  a  move,  with  one  of 
the  white  pieces,  and  waited.  She  continued  gaz 
ing  at  the  board.  At  length  she  placed  a  deli 
cate  finger  on  one  of  the  black  pieces,  and  moved. 
Hal  soon  replied.  Thus  was  the  game,  left  unfin 
ished  by  players  now  self-exiled  to  foreign  lands, 
and  who  little  imagined  at  this  moment  by  what 
a  strangely  matched  pair  it  was  taken  up,  carried  on. 

And,  after  all,  it  ended  as  a  drawn  game. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst,  perceiving  that  one  piece  of 
each  color  was  left  on  the  board  as  a  result  of 
an  exchange  which  she  had  thought  would  leave 
two  blacks  and  one  white,  gave  a  little  shrug  of 
the  shoulders ;  then  rose,  and  walked  toward  her 
chamber. 

Marry  ott  swiftly  seized  the  candle,  and  offered  it 
to  her,  saying : 


FOX  BY  HALL.  293 

"  We  set  forth  again  at  midnight.  I  will  knock  at 
your  door  a  little  before." 

She  took  the  candle,  and  went  from  the  room  ; 
but  on  her  threshold  she  turned  for  a  moment,  and 
said,  softly  : 

"  Good  night !  " 

Marryott  stood  in  a  glow  of  incredulous  joy.  Her 
tone,  her  gracious  look,  the  mere  fact  of  her  uttering 
the  civility,  or  of  her  volunteering  a  speech  to  him, 
could  not  but  mean  that  she  had  softened.  Had  she 
come  to  doubt  whether  he  was  indeed  her  brother's 
slayer  ?  Or  had  her  heart  come  to  incline  toward 
him  despite  the  supposed  gulf  of  bloodshed  that 
parted  them  ?  Either  conjecture  intoxicated  him  ; 
the  first  as  with  an  innocent  bliss,  the  second  as 
with  a  poignant  ecstasy  darkly  tinged  with  horror 
and  guilt. 

Francis  and  Tom  had  fallen  asleep  where  they  had 
sat  at  supper.  Anthony,  as  Marryott  knew,  had  long 
since  ridden  out  to  keep  his  cold  and  lonely  watch. 
Kit  and  the  other  men  in  the  hall  were  asleep,  for 
the  sounds  of  their  supper  merriment  had  ceased  to 
come  up  from  below.  The  horses  were  in  the  sta 
bles,  resting,  in  readiness  for  a  swift  departure.  The 
fire  crackled ;  the  wind,  having  risen  again,  wailed 
around  the  turrets  and  gables  of  Foxby  Hall,  and  the 
snow  beat  against  the  window.  Marryott  took  a  large 
book  from  the  case,  put  it  on  a  chest  as  a  pillow, 


294  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak,  and  lay  down  with  his 
new  and  delicious  dreams.  From  waking  dreams, 
they  soon  became  dreams  indeed.  For  the  first  night 
in  three,  he  slept. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 
A  WOMAN'S   VICTORY. 

"  My  heart  hath  melted  at  a  lady's  tears."  —  King  John. 

A  SHRILL  whistle  roused  Marryott  from  his  sleep. 
He  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  fire  was  quite  low  now ; 
some  hours  must  have  passed.  The  whistle  was  re 
peated  ;  it  came  from  outside  the  house,  beneath  the 
window.  Marryott  threw  open  the  casement,  letting 
in  a  dash  of  wind  and  snow,  and  leaned  out.  Below 
him,  in  the  snowy  darkness,  was  Anthony,  on  horse 
back. 

"  How  now,  Anthony  ?  " 

"  A  score  of  men  have  rid  into  Harmby,  from  the 
south.  I  saw  them  from  this  side  of  the  town.  I 
had  gone  so  far  back  to  keep  warmth  in  my  horse. 
'Tis  bitter  cold.  They  stopped  at  the  inn  there, 
these  men  ;  whether  to  pass  the  night,  or  to  get 
fresh  horses,  I  wot  not." 

"  Are  they  Barnet's  men,  think  you  ?  " 

"There  is  no  knowing.  The  darkness  and  snow 
make  all  men  look  alike  at  a  distance.  They  might 

295 


296  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

be  the  pursuivant's  men,  or  they  might  be  Captain 
Bottle's  friends." 

By  "  Captain  Bottle's  friends  "  the  Puritan  meant 
Rumney  and  his  robbers. 

"  Harmby  is  but  four  miles  away,"  said  Marryott. 
"  An  they  came  on  to-night,  they  would  stop  here  to 
inquire  of  our  passing.  Or  if  they  asked  further  on, 
and  found  we  had  not  passed,  they  would  soon  hound 
us  out.  'Tis  well  you  brought  the  news  forthwith, 
Anthony  !  " 

"  Why,  as  for  that,  'twas  eleven  by  Harmby  clock 
when  I  turned  my  back  on't.  So  it  must  be  near 
starting-time  now." 

"  Then  go  you  to  the  hall  and  call  the  men,  and 
bring  the  horses  to  the  door.  We  shall  ride  by  the 
road,  if  we  can,  to  leave  the  trace  there.  But  if  these 
fellows  by  chance  come  up  too  soon,  we  shall  use  the 
way  through  the  park." 

"What  of  the  wounded  men,  sir  ? " 

"  Those  that  cannot  go  with  us  may  lie  close  in 
some  outhouse  loft  here,  with  John  Hatch  to  care 
for  them.  I'll  give  him  money  for  their  needs. 
Look  to  it  all,  Anthony.  I'll  meet  you  at  the  hall 
door." 

The  Puritan  rode  off,  to  round  the  corner  of  the 
wing.  Marryott,  not  waiting  to  close  the  casement, 
awoke  Tom  Cobble  and  Francis,  and  sent  them  to 
join  the  men  in  the  hall,  the  apprentice  still  in  charge 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  297 

of  the  page.  When  these  two  had  gone,  Marryott 
knocked  at  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  door. 

He  waited.  Nothing  was  heard  but  the  wind,  and 
the  beating  of  flakes  upon  the  window.  He  knocked 
again. 

By  roundabout  ways  came  faint  and  indistinct 
scraps  of  the  noise  attendant  upon  Anthony's  awak 
ening  the  men. 

"  Mistress  Hazlehurst !  "  called  Marryott,  softly. 
"It  is  time  for  us  to  go." 

In  the  ensuing  silence,  a  vague  fear  grew  within 
him,  —  fear  for  his  mission,  fear  for  her.  Could 
aught  have  befallen  her  ? 

"  Madam  !  "  he  said,  a  little  louder  and  faster.  "  I 
must  bid  you  rise.  We  must  set  forth." 

Marryott's  heart  was  beating  wildly.  His  was  not 
a  time  of,  nor  this  the  moment  for,  false  delicacy.  He 
flung  open  the  door,  and  strode  into  her  chamber. 

There  was  yet  a  little  firelight  left  in  the  room. 
It  shone  upon  the  bed,  of  which  the  curtains  were 
apart.  Mistress  Hazlehurst  lay  there,  wrapped 
loosely  in  her  cloak,  the  hood  not  up.  Her  eyes 
were  wide  open.  Their  depths  reflected  the  red 
glow  of  the  embers. 

She  sprang  up,  and  stood  beside  the  bed,  her  gaze 
meeting  Marryott's.  An  instant  later,  she  moved  as 
if  to  step  toward  him,  but  seemed  to  lose  her  powers, 
and  staggered. 


298  A    GENTLEMAN  PLA  YER. 

He  reached  out  to  catch  her,  lest  she  should  fall. 
But  she  avoided  him,  and  hastened  with  swift  but 
uncertain  steps  toward  the  door.  Having  neared  it, 
she  leaned  against  the  post  for  support,  and  raised 
her  hand  to  her  forehead,  uttering  at  the  same  time 
a  low  moan  of  pain. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Marryott,  going 
quickly  after  her. 

She  moved,  as  by  a  desperate  summoning  of  what 
small  strength  remained  to  her,  into  the  outer  room. 
She  went  as  far  as  to  the  table  near  the  fireplace. 
On  this  table  she  placed  her  hands,  as  if  to  prevent 
her  sinking  to  the  floor. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  repeated  Marryott,  reach 
ing  her  side  in  three  steps,  and  putting  his  arms 
around  her  just  in  time  to  uphold  her  from  falling. 

"I  know  not,"  she  whispered,  as  with  a  last  rem 
nant  of  departing  breath.  "  I  am  dying,  I  think !  " 

And  she  let  her  head  rest  on  his  shoulder,  as  if 
for  inability  to  hold  it  erect. 

"  Dying  !  "  echoed  Marryott,  gazing  with  affrighted 
eyes  into  hers  ;  whose  lids  thereupon  fell,  like  those 
of  a  tired  child. 

She  shivered  in  his  arms,  and  murmured,  feebly, 
"  How  cold  it  is  !  " 

"  Madam  !  "  cried  Marryott.  "  This  is  but  a  mo 
ment's  faintness  !  It  will  pass  !  Call  up  your 
energies,  I  pray  !  I  dare  not  delay.  Already  the 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  299 

men  are  waiting  for  us  in  the  court  below.  We 
must  to  horse  !  " 

"  To  my  grave,  'twould  be  !  "  she  answered,  drows 
ily.  Then  a  spasm  of  pain  distorted  her  face.  She 
became  more  heavy  in  Marryott's  grasp. 

"  God's  light  !  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  he  muttered. 
"  Mistress,  shake  off  this  lethargy  !  Come  to  the 
window  ;  the  air  will  revive  you  !  " 

He  moved  to  the  open  casement,  bearing  her 
in  his  arms.  He  feared  to  place  her  on  the  window- 
seat,  lest  the  little  animation  she  retained  might  pass 
from  her. 

She  shuddered  in  the  blast  of  wind. 

"The  cold  kills  me!"  she  said,  huskily.  "The 
snow  hath  a  sting  like  needle-points  !  " 

"  Yet  your  face  is  warm  !  "  He  had  placed  his 
cheek  against  her  forehead  to  ascertain  this. 

"  It  burns  while  my  body  freezes !  "  she  replied. 

"  But  your  hands  are  not  cold !  "  A  tight  clasp 
had  made  the  discovery. 

She  did  not  move  away  her  head,  of  which  the 
white  brow  and  dark  hair  were  still  pressed  by  his 
cheek,  nor  did  she  withdraw  her  hand.  Neither  did 
her  body  shrink  from  his  embrace,  though  it  trembled 
within  it. 

"  I  am  ill  unto  death,"  was  her  answer.  "  I  can 
not  move  a  step." 

"  But  you  are  revived  already.     Your  voice  is  not 


3OO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

so  faint  now.  Madam,  in  a  few  moments  you  will 
have  strength  to  ride." 

"  I  should  fall  from  the  horse.  My  God,  sir,  can 
you  be  a  gentleman,  and  subject  a  half  dying  woman 
to  more  of  that  fatigue  which  hath  brought  her  to 
this  pass  —  and  on  a  night  of  such  weather  ?  If  my 
voice  has  strength,  'tis  the  strength  of  desperation, 
which  impels  me  to  beg  pity  at  your  hands  in  mine 
hour  of  bitter  illness  !  " 

Thereupon,  as  if  grown  weaker,  she  sought  addi 
tional  support  to  that  of  his  embrace,  by  clinging 
to  him  with  her  arms. 

"  But,  madam,  do  you  not  perceive  all  is  at  stake 
upon  my  instant  flight  ?  A  score  of  horsemen  have 
entered  Harmby ;  'tis  but  four  miles  distant.  They 
may  be  here  any  moment.  Perchance  they  are  the 
pursuivant  and  his  men  ;  perchance,  Captain  Rum- 
ney,  with  his  band  augmented !  We  must  begone  ! 
God  knows  how  it  wounds  my  soul  to  put  you  to 
discomfort !  But  necessity  cries  '  on,'  and  ride  forth 
we  must !  " 

"Then  ride  forth  without  me.  Let  me  die  here 
alone." 

"  But  I  dare  not  leave  you  here.  If  Roger  Barnet 
came  and  found  you  —  He  did  not  complete  the 
sentence.  His  thought  was,  that  her  account  of  him 
to  Barnet  might  send  men  flying  back  for  the  real 
Sir  Valentine.  But,  indeed,  Marryott's  continued 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  30 1 

flight,  and  her  illness,  would  minimize  the  chances 
of  Barnet's  stopping  where  she  was  ;  or,  if  he  did 
stop,  of  his  waiting  for  much  talk  with  her. 

"  An  you  take  me  with  you,"  said  she,  "  you  may 
take  but  a  cold  corpse  !  " 

The  idea  struck  Marryott  to  the  soul.  To  think 
of  that  beauty  lying  cold  and  lifeless,  which  now 
breathed  warm  and  quivering  in  his  arms  ! 

"  Mistress,  you  mistake  !  Your  fears  exceed  your 
case  !  You  will  find  yourself  able  to  ride.  I  will 
wrap  you  well  ;  I  will  let  you  ride  in  front  of  me, 
and  I  will  support  you.  I  must  compel  you,  even 
as  my  cause  compels  me  !  " 

"  You  would  compel  me  to  my  death,  to  save  your 
own  life  !  " 

"  'Tis  not  my  poor  life  I  think  of  !  There  is  that 
in  my  flight  you  wot  not  of." 

"Then  betake  yourself  to  your  flight,  and  leave 
me !  "  And,  for  the  first  time,  she  made  some  faint 
movement  to  push  from  his  embrace. 

"No,  no!"  he  cried,  tightening  his  grasp  so  that 
she  ceased  her  opposing  efforts.  "  For  your  own 
sake  I  dare  not  leave  you.  These  riders  may  be 
Rumney  and  his  men.  If  you  should  fall  into  their 
hands !  " 

"  Leave  me  to  their  hands ! "  she  cried,  again 
exerting  herself  feebly  to  be  free.  "  Tis  a  wise 
course  for  you.  If  it  be  Rumney  that  hath  fol- 


3O2  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

lowed,  'tis  easy  guessing  what  hath  brought  him. 
An  he  find  me,  he  will  cease  troubling  you." 

"  Madam,  madam,  would  you  be  left  to  the  will 
of  that  villain  ?  Know  you  —  can  you  suppose  —  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  and  can  imagine  how  such  vil 
lains  woo !  But  what  choice  have  I  ?  I  cannot 
go  with  you.  Would  you  drag  me  forth  to  meet 
my  death  ?  But  that  you  cannot  do,  an  you  would. 
Here  will  I  remain,  and  if  you  go  you  must  leave 
me  behind." 

And,  with  an  effort  for  which  he  was  quite  un 
prepared,  she  thrust  him  from  her,  and  slipped  from 
his  somewhat  relaxed  embrace.  The  next  instant 
she  traversed,  with  wavering  motions,  the  distance 
to  the  chest.  Upon  this  she  let  herself  fall,  and 
straightened  her  body  to  a  supine  position. 

When  Marryott  ran  to  her  side,  and  tried  to  lift 
her,  he  found  her  so  rigid  that  nothing  short  of 
violently  applied  force  could  place  her  upon  horse 
back,  or  keep  her  there  afterward. 

A  moment  later  a  spasmodic  shiver  stirred  her 
body,  and  she  uttered  so  pitiful  a  groan  that  Marry 
ott  could  no  longer  hold  out  against  the  conviction 
—  which  he  had  thus  far  resisted,  as  one  hopes 
against  hope  —  that  she  was  indeed  beyond  all 
possibility  of  taking  horse  that  night.  Having, 
perforce,  admitted  to  himself  her  condition,  he  ran 
and  closed  the  casement,  then  returned  to  her. 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  303 

"  Madam,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  he  asked.  "  'Tis 
plain  that  a  brief  delay  would  find  you  no  more 
able  to  go  than  you  now  are.  For  such  illness  as 
hath  laid  hold  of  you,  after  so  long  exposure,  I  well 
know  one  recovers  not  in  an  hour.  If  I  tarried  at 
all  for  you,  it  would  needs  be  a  long  tarrying." 

"Then  tarry  not,"  she  moaned.  "Go,  and  leave 
me." 

"  If  I  left  men  to  protect  you  ?  " 

"  Ay,  my  page  Francis !  The  boy  would  avail 
much  against  Rumney  and  the  score  of  men  you 
say  are  at  Harmby !  " 

"  If  I  left,  also,  the  men  who  joined  us  from 
Rumney's  band  ? " 

"  Why,  those  that  are  wounded  would  sure  stay 
by  me,  for  want  of  power  to  run  away !  And  the 
other  four  might  stay  till  they  caught  sight  of  their 
old  leader.  Then  they  would  have  choice  of  turning 
tail,  or  of  crawling  to  him  for  pardon,  or  of  dying, 
either  in  my  defence  or  for  his  revenge." 

"  If  I  left  Captain  Bottle  and  Anthony  Underbill 
with  them  ? " 

"  Certes,  if  this  score  of  men  be  the  pursuivant's, 
'tis  better  for  you  that  your  two  faithful  dogs  die  as 
your  accomplices,  and  you  go  safe  alone  !  " 

"  Madam,  I  deserve  not  this  irony  !  I  say  to  you 
again,  'tis  not  for  mine  own  life  that  I  would  leave 
others  to  die  on  my  account  without  me.  'Tis  for 


304  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Sir  —  for  the  qu —  for  the  cause  to  which  I  have 
bound  myself,  and  of  which  you  know  not.  My 
God,  I  would  this  were  to-morrow's  night  !  Then 
you  would  see  how  fearful  I  am  for  my  life  !  But 
for  another  day,  my  life  is  not  mine  own  !  " 

The  woman  to  whom  he  spoke  paid  no  heed  to 
words  whose  significance  she  did  not  understand. 

"Then  why  do  you  stay  here?"  she  said.  "Is 
it  of  my  asking  ?  Do  I  request  aught  of  you  ?  Go, 
and  take  your  men  with  you.  You  may  have  need 
of  them." 

"That  is  true,"  thought  Marryott,  appreciating 
how  much  easier  it  was  for  the  pursuivant  to  fol 
low  a  trace  left  by  three  men  than  that  left  by 
one. 

"Your  two  henchmen  are  stout  fellows,  I  ween," 
she  went  on,  speaking  as  with  difficulty,  "  but  scarce 
like  to  use  much  zeal  in  my  behalf.  I'll  warrant  that 
Puritan  would  not  stir  for  me,  were  you  not  here  to 
command  him." 

"'Tis  true!"  muttered  Marryott,  in  a  tumult  of 
perplexity.  "  Against  a  score  of  desperate  rascals, 
what  six  men  under  heaven  would  long  risk  their 
lives  for  a  lady's  sake,  unless  they  were  gentlemen, 
or  by  a  gentleman  led  ?  And  what  gentleman  lead 
ing  them,  and  fighting  with  them,  could  hope  to  win 
unless  he  were  armed,  as  I  should  be,  by  love  for 
that  lady  ?  Well  I  know  that  gentlemen  do  not 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  305 

protect  ladies  by  deputy,  nor  trust  to  underlings 
the  safety  of  those  they  love !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  She  moved  not ; 
gave  no  start,  or  frown,  or  look  of  surprise,  or  other 
sign  that  she  had  noted  this,  his  first  spoken  confes 
sion  of  love.  Yet  that  very  absence  of  all  sign  ought 
to  have  told  him  that  she  had  heeded  it,  —  that  she 
had  even  been  prepared  for  it. 

"  Bitter  is  my  fortune,"  she  replied,  using  a  tone  a 
trifle  lower  and  more  guarded  than  hitherto.  "  Of 
all  who  are  at  hand,  only  you,  being  a  gentleman 
and  moved  by  the  spirit  of  chivalry,  would  protect  a 
lady  to  the  last,  against  odds.  Only  you,  with  the 
valor  and  strength  that  a  chivalrous  heart  bestows, 
might  hope  to  prevail  against  such  odds.  Only  you, 
with  the  power  of  leadership  over  those  men  below, 
could  give  them  either  will  or  courage  for  the 
contest.  Only  your  remaining,  therefore,  might 
save  me  from  this  villain.  Your  cause  forbids  your 
remaining.  Go,  then ;  save  yourself,  save  your 
cause,  and  leave  me  to  my  fate !  " 

Her  voice  had  fallen  to  a  whisper.  She  now  lay 
perfectly  still,  as  if  too  exhausted  even  to  deplore 
what  might  be  in  store  for  her. 

"  Oh,  madam  !  "  said  Marryott,  his  voice  betraying 
the  distress  he  no  longer  tried  to  conceal.  "What  a 
choice  is  mine  !  Lest  these  men  approaching  be  Rum- 
ney's,  I  dare  not  go  from  you  ;  lest  they  be  the  pur- 


306  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

suivant's,  I  dare  not  stay  with  you !  Must  I,  then, 
leave  you  here,  in  this  deserted  house,  in  this  wild 
night,  to  what  terrible  chances  I  dare  not  think  of  ? 
Can  you  not  ride  forth  ?  Is  it  not  possible  ?  Can  you 
not  find  strength,  somewhere  deep-stored  within 
you  ? " 

Her  only  answer  was  a  faint  smile  as  at  his  incre 
dulity  to  her  state,  or  at  his  futile  return  to  impossible 
hopes. 

He  had  already  forgotten,  for  the  time,  what 
strength  she  had  found  to  make  her  body  rigid. 

"  Fare  thee  well,  then  !  "  he  cried,  abruptly,  and 
hastened,  with  steps  almost  as  wild  as  hers  had 
been,  to  the  door  leading  to  the  passage. 

A  low  sob  arrested  him  at  the  threshold.  He 
turned  and  looked  at  her ;  his  heart,  which  seemed 
to  have  stopped  as  he  was  crossing  the  room  to  leave 
her,  now  began  to  beat  madly. 

She  was  not  looking  after  him.  She  had  not 
changed  position.  But,  by  the  firelight,  to  which 
his  sight  was  now  accustomed,  a  welling  up  of  mois 
ture  was  visible  in  her  eyes. 

While  he  stood  gazing  at  her,  she  gave  another 
sob,  —  a  convulsive  note  of  despair,  in  which  Marry- 
ott  read  a  sense  of  her  forlorn  situation  and  possible 
fate ;  of  being  abandoned  in  dire  illness,  in  an  empty 
country-house,  on  this  wildest  of  nights,  to  become, 
perchance,  the  prey  of  a  vile,  unscrupulous  rascal. 


A    WOMAN'S    VICTORY.  307 

By  the  time  that  Marryott,  moving  in  long  strides, 
had  reached  her  side,  her  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears. 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  unsteady  with  emo 
tion,  as  he  flung  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her 
couch,  and  caught  both  her  hands  in  his,  "be  not 
afraid !  Though  I  forfeit  my  life,  and  fail  in  my 
cause,  I  will  not  go  from  you  !  May  God  above  for 
give  me ;  and  may  those  for  whom  I  have  these  four 
days  striven  ;  and  may  my  fathers,  who  never,  for 
fear  of  man  or  love  of  woman,  fell  short  of  their 
given  word !  But  I  love  thee !  Ay,  madam,  'tis  a 
right  I  earn,  that  of  holding  thee  thus  in  mine  arms ; 
thou  know'st  not  what  I  pay  for  it !  I  love  thee !  " 

He  had  resigned  her  hands,  only  that  he  might 
enfold  her  body ;  and  she  was  so  far  from  resisting 
his  clasp  that  she  had  thrown  her  own  arms,  soft 
and  warm,  around  his  neck.  She  no  longer  wept, 
yet  the  tears  still  stood  in  her  eyes  ;  through  them, 
however,  as  she  met  his  impassioned  gaze,  glowed  a 
light  at  once  soft  and  powerful.  Her  nostrils  heaved 
in  quick  but  regular  respirations.  As  his  face  neared 
hers,  her  lips  seemed  unconsciously  to  await  the  con 
tact  of  his  own.  Nor  did  they  fail  of  humid  warmth 
when  he  pressed  upon  them  a  score  of  kisses. 

"Oh,  thou  beautiful  one!"  he  whispered,  raising 
his  face  that  he  might  find  again  in  the  depths  of 
her  eyes  the  rapture  which,  by  the  responsive  intent- 
ness  of  her  look,  it  was  evident  she  found  in  his  own 


308  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

eyes.  "  Never  did  I  think  I  should  prove  so  weak, 
or  know  such  joy !  Though  I  hazard  my  mission  and 
my  life,  yet  methinks  for  this  moment  I  would  barter 
my  soul !  For  at  this  moment  thou  lov'st  me,  dost 
thou  not  ?  Else  all  kisses  are  false,  all  eyes  are  liars  ! 
Tell  me,  mistress  !  For  thine  own  rest's  sake,  tell  me  ; 
or  be  slain  with  mine  importunings  !  " 

"  Wouldst  thou  have  my  lips,"  she  whispered, 
and  paused  an  instant  for  strength  to  finish,  "con 
fess  by  speech  —  what  they  have  too  well  betrayed 
—  otherwise  ?" 

"  I  did  not  slay  thy  brother,"  he  answered,  still 
looking  into  her  eyes.  "  That  thou  must  believe ! 
Yet  thou  wouldst  love  me,  this  one  moment,  even 
though  the  red  gulf  were  indeed  between  us  ?  Is't 
not  so  ?  " 

She  would  not  answer.  When  he  again  opened 
his  lips  to  urge,  she,  by  a  movement  of  the  arm, 
caused  them  to  close  against  her  own. 

Then,  as  by  a  sudden  change  of  impulse,  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  thrust  him  from  her  with  all 
the  force  of  which  her  arms  were  capable. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    HORSEMEN    ARRIVE. 
"  'Faith,  I  will  live  so  long  as  I  may,  that's  the  certain  of  it ! "  —  Henry  V. 

THERE  was  a  rapid,  heavy  tread  in  the  passage 
without.  Marryott  hastily  rose  from  his  kneeling 
posture,  turned,  and  took  a  step  toward  the  door. 
Kit  Bottle  entered. 

"  All's  ready  for  going,  sir,"  said  the  captain. 

"We  shall  not  go,"  said  Marryott,  quietly,  with  as 
much  composure  as  he  could  command.  "  We  shall 
stay  here  the  rest  of  the  night  ;  I  know  not  how 
much  longer." 

"  Stay  here  ?  "  muttered  Kit,  staring  at  Marryott, 
with  amazed  eyes. 

"  Ay.  Let  Anthony  take  the  horses  back  to 
stable.  And  —  "  Marryott  felt  that  so  unaccountable 
a  change  of  plan  required  some  further  orders,  as  if 
there  were  a  politic  reason  behind  it ;  moreover, 
Kit's  astonished  look  seemed  to  call  for  them.  So, 
begotten  of  Hal's  embarrassment  in  the  gaze  of  his 
lieutenant,  came  a  thought,  and  in  its  train  a  hope. 
"  And  then  we'll  make  this  house  ready  for  a  siege," 

3°9 


3IO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

he  added.  "  Go  below  ;  send  hither  the  boy  Francis, 
and  Tom  Cobble,  and  let  all  the  others  await  my 
commands  in  the  hall." 

Kit  disappeared.  He  saw  Marryott's  plan  as  soon 
as  it  had  taken  shape.  The  word  "siege  "  was  key 
sufficient  for  the  captain.  Ten  days  were  to  be 
gained  for  Sir  Valentine.  Four  were  past.  Four 
more  would  be  required  for  a  return  to  Fleetwood 
house  in  this  weather  and  over  snowbound  roads. 
Two  days  thus  remained  to  be  consumed.  If  Foxby 
Hall  could  be  held  for  two  days  against  probable 
attempts  of  Roger  Barnet  to  enter  it,  and  without 
his  discovering  Hal's  trick,  the  mission  would  be 
accomplished. 

But  after  that,  what  of  the  lives  of  Master  Marry- 
ott  and  his  men  ?  It  was  not  yet  time  to  face  that 
question.  The  immediate  problem  was,  to  gain  the 
two  days. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst,  who  believed  Marryott  to  be 
the  real  Fleetwood,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  matter 
of  the  ten  days,  saw  in  this  prospective  siege  the 
certainty  of  the  supposed  knight's  eventual  capture  ; 
saw,  that  is  to  say,  the  accomplishment  of  the  venge 
ful  purpose  for  which  she  had  beset  his  flight.  She 
lay  motionless  on  her  improvised  couch,  her  feelings 
locked  within  her. 

"  And  now,  mistress,"  said  Marryott,  turning  to 
her,  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  "  what  may  be 


THE   HORSEMEN  ARRIVE.  31! 

done  for  thy  comfort  ?  I  have  no  skill  to  deal  with 
ailments.  It  may  be  that  one  of  the  men  below  —  " 

"Nay,"  she  answered,  drowsily;  "there  is  naught 
can  do  me  any  good  but  rest.  My  ailment  is,  that 
my  body  is  wearied  to  the  edge  of  death.  The  one 
cure  is  sleep." 

"  Shall  I  support  thee  to  thy  bed  ?  " 

"  An  thou  wilt." 

When  he  had  borne  her  into  her  chamber,  and 
laid  her  on  the  bed,  she  appeared  to  sink  at  once 
into  that  repose  whence  she  might  renew  her  waned 
vitality.  He  gazed  for  a  moment  upon  her  face, 
daring  not  to  disturb  her  tranquillity  with  another 
caress.  Hearing  steps  approaching  in  the  passage 
beyond  the  outer  room,  he  went  softly  from  the 
chamber  and  met  Francis  and  Tom. 

"  Your  mistress  sleeps,"  said  he  to  the  page. 
"  Leave  her  door  ajar,  that  you  may  hear  if  she  be 
ailing  or  in  want  of  aught.  Go  not  for  an  instant 
out  of  hearing  of  her ;  and  if  there  be  need,  let  Tom 
bring  word  to  me  in  the  hall." 

He  then  hurried  down  to  where  the  men  were 
assembled  with  Kit  Bottle.  The  fire  had  been  re 
plenished,  and  some  torches  lighted.  Marryott,  see 
ing  that  Anthony  and  Bunch  were  still  absent  with 
the  horses,  awaited  their  return  before  addressing 
his  company.  In  this  interim,  he  strode  up  and 
down  before  the  fire,  forming  in  his  mind  the  speech 


312  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

he  would  make.  When  the  two  came  in,  and  had 
barred  the  door  after  them,  Marryott  said  : 

"  My  stout  fellows,  four  miles  yonder,  or  maybe 
less  now,  are  a  score  of  horsemen.  Most  like,  they 
are  either  Master  Rumney  and  a  reinforced  gang,  or 
a  pursuivant's  troop  from  London  with  a  warrant  to 
arrest  me.  An  it  be  Rumney,  hounding  us  for  re 
venge  and  other  purposes,  we  can  best  offset  his 
odds  by  fighting  him  from  this  house  ;  and  he  must 
in  the  end  give  up  and  depart,  lest  the  tumult  bring 
sheriff's  men  upon  him  when  the  weather  betters. 
But  if  it  be  the  pursuivant,  he  will  persist  till  he 
take  me  or  starve  me  out,  an  I  do  not  some  way 
contrive  to  give  him  the  slip.  Now  if  he  take  you 
aiding  me,  'tis  like  to  bring  ropes  about  your  necks 
forthwith  !  So  I  give  you,  this  moment,  opportunity 
of  leaving  me ;  knowing  well  there  is  not  one  so  vile 
among  you  to  use  this  liberty  in  bearing  information 
of  me  to  shire  officers,  —  which  indeed  they  would 
find  pretext  for  ignoring,  in  such  weather  for  staying 
indoors.  Stand  forth,  therefore,  ye  that  wish  to  go 
hence  ;  for  once  we  fortify  the  house,  none  may 
leave  it  without  my  order,  on  pain  of  pistol-shot." 

Whether  from  attachment  to  Marryott,  or  fear  of 
falling  into  Rumney's  hands,  or  a  sense  of  present 
comfort  and  security  in  this  stout  mansion,  every 
man  stood  motionless. 

"Brave    hearts,    I    thank  you!"    cried    Marryott, 


THE   HORSEMEN  ARRIVE.  3  I  3 

after  sufficient  pause.  "  And  mayhap  I  can  save 
you,  though  I  be  taken  myself.  But  now  for  swift 
work !  Captain  Bottle,  an  there  be  any  loose  timber 
about,  let  Oliver  show  it  you,  and  let  the  men  bear 
it  into  the  house.  If  there  be  none  such,  take  what 
fire-logs  there  be,  and  cut  timbers  from  the  outhouses 
with  what  tools  ye  may  come  upon.  With  these,  and 
with  chests  and  such,  ye  will  brace  and  bar  the 
doors  and  all  windows  within  reach  of  men  upon 
the  ground.  As  soon  as  Oliver  has  shown  where 
timber  may  be  found,  let  him  point  out  all  such 
openings  to  Captain  Bottle.  And  meanwhile,  till 
timber  is  here  collected,  I  and  the  captain  will 
begin  the  barricading  with  furniture.  As  the  timbers 
are  brought  in,  we  shall  use  them,  and  when  enough 
be  fetched,  every  man  shall  join  us  in  the  fortifying." 

"  There  be  posts  and  beams,  piled  'neath  a  pentice- 
roof  by  the  stables  ;  and  fire-wood  a-plenty,"  said 
Oliver  Bunch. 

"  Good  !  And  which  door  is  best  to  carry  it  in 
through  ? " 

"  There  is  an  old  door  from  the  kitchen  wing  to 
the  stables  ;  'tis  kept  ever  bolted  and  barred." 

"  Unbolt  and  unbar  it,  then  !  And  make  fast, 
instead,  the  outer  stable  doors,  when  ye  have 
brought  in  the  timber.  Thus  we  may  secure  the 
horses,  —  which  may  now  rest  unsaddled  ;  for  here 
we  must  abide  two  days,  at  least.  To  it  now,  my 


314  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

staunch  knaves  !  And  leave  all  your  weapons  on 
these  settles,  and  your  powder  and  ball,  that  I  may 
see  how  we  are  provided  for  this  siege.  I  thank 
God  for  this  storm,  Kit  ;  it  must  limit  our  besiegers 
to  the  enemies  we  wot  of.  No  lazy  rustics  will  poke 
nose  into  the  business  while  such  weather  endures." 

Leaving  the  wounded  to  rely  solely  upon  repose, 
the  men  set  about  doing  as  they  were  ordered. 
Marryott  and  Kit  took  account  of  the  weapons  and 
ammunition.  There  were,  besides  the  swords  and 
daggers,  a  number  of  pistols,  two  arquebuses,  a  mus 
ket,  and  a  petronel.  Of  these  firearms,  the  pistols 
alone  had  wheel-locks,  which  indeed  were  still  so 
costly  that  as  yet  they  were  to  be  found  mainly  in 
weapons  for  use  on  horseback,  the  longer  arms,  for 
service  afoot,  being  fitted  with  the  awkward  and 
slow-working  match-locks.  There  was  good  store  of 
ammunition.  29 

Marryott  and  the  captain  thereupon  threw  off 
their  doublets,  and  began  barricading,  starting  at 
the  main  door,  and  using  first  the  chests,  trestles, 
and  like  material  found  in  the  adjacent  rooms.  When 
the  long  and  thin  pieces  of  timber  began  to  come  in 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  men,  Hal  caused  them  to 
be  pointed  at  one  end,  that  they  might  be  used  as 
braces,  the  blunt  ends  placed  against  doors  and 
shutters,  the  sharp  ends  sunk  into  notches  made 
in  the  floor.  Pieces  of  various  size  and  shape  were 


THE   HORSEMEN  ARRIVE.  315 

utilized  to  bar,  brace,  or  block  up  doors  and  win 
dows  in  diverse  ways.  Narrow  openings  were  left 
at  some  windows,  through  which,  upon  making  cor 
responding  openings  in  the  glass,  men  might  fire  out 
at  any  one  attempting  to  force  entrance. 

When  the  defences  in  the  house  were  well  begun, 
Hal  sent  Kit  to  superintend  those  of  the  stable, 
which,  as  has  been  shown,  communicated  directly 
with  a  wing  of  the  mansion. 

These  occupations  kept  Marryott  and  his  men 
busy  for  several  hours.  When  they  were  com 
pleted,  and  Foxby  Hall  seemed  closed  tight  against 
the  ingress  of  a  regiment,  Hal,  previously  drained  of 
strength  by  his  long  terms  of  sleeplessness,  was 
ready  to  drop.  But  he  dragged  himself  up-stairs 
to  see  how  his  prisoner  fared. 

Francis  and  Tom  were  asleep  in  the  outer  room. 
At  Anne's  half  open  door  Marryott  could  hear  from 
within  the  chamber  the  regular  breathing  of  peace 
ful  slumber.  He  went  down  to  the  hall  again,  and 
found  the  men,  with  the  exception  of  Anthony, 
stretched  upon  the  stale  rushes.  The  Puritan  was 
sitting  by  the  fire. 

"  I  shall  sleep  awhile,  Anthony,"  said  Hal.  "  I 
see  no  use  in  setting  a  watch,  now  that  we  need 
keep  no  more  between  us  and  these  men  than  the 
walls  of  this  house.  If  they  come  hither,  their 
noise  will  wake  us  ere  they  can  break  in." 


3l6  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Come  hither  they  will,  'tis  sure,"  said  Kit  Bot 
tle,  from  his  place  on  the  floor,  "  if  they  be  indeed 
Rumney's  men  or  Barnet's.  They  will  have  heard 
tell  of  this  empty  house  ere  they  come  to  it,  and 
they  will  stop  to  examine.  Or,  if  they  pass  first 
without  stopping,  and  find  no  note  of  our  going  fur 
ther  north,  they  will  come  back  with  keen  noses. 
When  they  hear  horses  snorting  and  pawing  in  the 
stables,  —  horses  stabled  at  an  empty  house,  look 
you  !  —  they'll  make  quick  work  of  smelling  us  out  !  " 

"Well,  'faith,  we  are  ready  for  them,"  said 
Hal,  and  sank  to  a  reclining  attitude  near  the 
fire. 

"Ay,  in  good  sooth,"  said  Kit;  "fortified,  armed, 
and  vict  —  No,  by  the  devil's  horns,  victualled  we 
are  not !  " 

And  the  worthy  soldier  sprang  to  his  feet,  the 
picture  of  dismay. 

"  Go  to ! "  cried  Hal,  rising  almost  as  quickly. 
"Where  are  the  provisions  Anthony  brought  yes 
treen  ? " 

"  In  those  bellies  and  mine,  and  a  murrain  on  such 
appetites  ! "  was  Kit's  self-reproachful  answer.  "God's 
death,  we're  like  to  make  up  for  a  deal  of  Lent- 
breaking,  these  next  two  days  !  " 

Hal  became  at  once  hungry,  at  the  very  prospect 
of  a  two  days'  complete  fast.  He  wondered  how  his 
men  would  endure  it ;  and  he  thought  of  the  lady 


THE   HORSEMEN  ARRIVE.  317 

up-stairs.  Already  languishing  from  sheer  fatigue, 
must  she  now  famish  also  ? 

"We  must  get  a  supply  of  food  !  "  said  Marryott, 
decidedly. 

"  Where  ?  "  queried  the  captain. 

"  Where  we  got  yesterday's.  Some  one  must  go, 
at  once  !  " 

"I  will  go,"  said  Anthony.      "I  know  the  way." 

"Rouse  the  innkeeper,  at  any  cost,"  replied  Hal, 
handing  out  a  gold  piece  from  the  pocket  of  his  hose. 

"  Tis  near  dawn,"  returned -the  Puritan.  "He 
will  be  up  when  I  arrive  there." 

"Keep  an  eye  open  for  our  enemies." 

"If  I  find  them  surrounding  you,  when  I  return," 
replied  the  Puritan,  calmly,  "  I  will  make  a  dash  for 
one  of  the  doors.  By  watching  from  an  upper  win 
dow,  you  may  know  when  to  open  it  for  me." 

"  And  when  you  are  within,  it  can  be  barred  again," 
said  Hal.  "  Best  make  for  the  same  door  by  which 
you  now  go  forth  ;  'twill  save  undoing  more  than 
one  of  our  barricades." 

"  Let  it  be  the  lesser  stable  door,  then,"  suggested 
Captain  Bottle,  "as  he  will  go  by  horse.  Moreover, 
if  the  enemy  should  force  a  way  into  the  stables, 
there's  yet  the  door  betwixt  the  stables  and  the 
house,  that  we  could  close  against  them." 

The  world  was  paling  into  a  snowy  dawn,  as  An 
thony  rode  forth  from  the  stable  a  few  minutes  later. 


318  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEX. 

Meanwhile,  having  aroused  the  useful  Bunch,  Hal 
had  caused  vessels  to  be  filled  with  water  from  a 
well,  and  placed  in  a  room  off  the  hall.  Kit  then 
barred  the  stable  door,  but  did  not  replace  the 
braces  and  obstructions  that  had  been  removed  to 
allow  egress.  He  then  volunteered  to  watch,  in  an 
up-stairs  chamber  of  the  kitchen  wing,  for  Anthony's 
return.  Assenting  to  this  offer,  Marryott  returned 
to  the  hall,  and  lay  down  near  Oliver,  who  was 
already  asleep. 

An  hour  later  Hal  was  awakened  by  a  call  from 
Captain  Bottle,  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Is  Anthony  coming  back  ? "  Marryott  asked, 
scrambling  to  his  feet. 

"  He  is  not  in  sight  yet,"  was  the  reply.  "  And 
you'd  best  send  Oliver  to  watch  in  my  place.  I  can 
be  of  better  use  otherwise,  now." 

"  What  mean'st  thou  ?  " 

"  The  horsemen  are  without.  From  yon  room  I 
saw  them  riding  around  the  house  and  staring  up  at 
the  windows." 

"Which  party  is  it  ?"  said  Hal,  quickly,  repressing 
his  excitement. 

"  Rumney's." 

Hal's  brow  darkened  a  little.  He  would  rather 
it  had  been  Barnet's,  for  then  he  should  have  been 
free  of  all  doubt  whether  the  pursuivant  had  indeed 
clung  to  the  false  chase. 


THE   HORSEMEN  ARRIVE.  3  1 9 

At  that  instant  a  loud  thud  was  heard  on  the 
front  door,  as  if  a  piece  of  timber  were  being  used  as 
a  battering-ram. 

"  You  are  right ;  I  will  send  Oliver  to  watch," 
said  Marryott. 

He  did  so,  with  full  instructions  ;  and  then  roused 
all  the  able-bodied  men.  He  distributed  the  firearms 
and  ammunition  ;  assigned  each  man  to  the  guardian 
ship  of  some  particular  door  and  its  neighboring 
windows  ;  gave  orders  for  an  alarm,  and  a  concentra 
tion  of  force,  at  any  point  where  the  enemy  might 
win  entrance ;  left  Kit  in  charge  of  the  hall,  at  whose 
door  there  was  present  threat  of  attack,  and  hastened 
up-stairs  to  a  gallery  where  an  oriel  window  projected 
over  that  door.  He  looked  down  into  the  quadrangle. 
It  was  now  broad  daylight  ;  snow  was  still  falling. 

Whether  from  a  desire  to  avail  himself  of  the  bad 
weather  for  an  attempt  to  plunder  this  deserted  house, 
or  from  a  suspicion  that  Oliver  Bunch  might  have 
been  both  able  and  willing  to  open  the  mansion  to 
the  travellers,  or  from  other  reasons  for  thinking  that 
they  might  be  here,  Captain  Rumney  had  indeed  led 
his  troop  into  the  grounds,  made  a  preliminary  cir 
cuit  of  the  mansion,  heard  the  horses  in  the  stables, 
found  all  doors  fast,  detected  signs  of  barricades  in 
the  windows,  dismounted  his  company  in  the  court, 
and  caused  a  number  of  his  men  to  assault  the  door 
with  the  fallen  boucrh  of  a  tree. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    HORSEMEN    DEPART. 
"  Beauty  provoketh  thieves  sooner  than  gold."  — As  You  Like  It. 

WHEN  Marryott  looked  down  from  the  oriel,  he 
saw  the  horses  huddled  in  a  corner  of  the  quadrangle, 
Rumney  standing  by  the  fountain,  and  several  men 
about  to  swing  the  long  piece  of  timber  against  the 
door  a  second  time.  Afar,  at  the  gate  by  the  road, 
as  Hal  could  descry  through  the  leafless  trees,  a 
mounted  man  kept  watch.  Master  Rumney  preferred 
to  avoid  witnesses,  in  his  violation  of  the  peace  this 
Sunday  morning. 

Marryott  flung  open  the  casement,  and  leaned  out, 
a  pistol  in  each  hand. 

"  Back  !  "  he  cried  to  the  men  with  the  branch. 
"  Back,  or  two  of  you  shall  die  !  " 

The  men  stopped  short,  looked  up  at  him,  and 
stood  hesitating. 

"  Batter  down  the  door  !  "  shouted  Rumney  to  the 
men.  "  I'll  look  to  this  cock  !  " 

And  he  raised  a  pistol  and  fired  at  Hal.  The  ball 
sang  past  him  and  found  lodgment  in  the  wall  of  the 

320 


THE  HORSEMEN  DEPART.  321 

gallery.  The  men  sprang  forward  with  the  tree- 
branch.  True  to  his  threat,  Hal  let  off  both  his  pis 
tols.  Two  men  fell,  —  one  struck  in  the  shoulder, 
the  other  in  the  thigh.  One  howled,  the  other  stared 
up  at  Hal  in  a  kind  of  silent  amazement. 

With  a  wrathful  curse,  Rumney  fired  a  second 
pistol  at  Marryott.  But  Hal,  having  now  to  reload 
his  weapons,  had  disappeared  in  good  time.  More 
over,  Rumney 's  aim  was  bad,  for  the  fact  that  his 
better  arm,  wounded  the  previous  day,  was  now  bound 
up  and  useless.  Handing  his  pistols  to  two  men,  for 
reloading,  and  grasping  from  one  of  these  men  a 
weapon  already  loaded,  the  robber  fiercely  ordered 
his  rascals  to  resume  the  assault  upon  the  door.  They 
obeyed.  The  door  quivered  at  their  blow  ;  but  its 
bars  and  braces  held.  As  the  men  were  rushing 
forward  for  a  third  stroke  with  their  improvised  ram, 
flame  and  smoke  suddenly  belched  forth  from  the 
windows  nearest  the  door,  and  two  more  fellows  sank 
to  the  snow.  Kit  Bottle  and  one  of  Hal's  wounded 
followers  had  fired  through  holes  they  had  made  in 
the  glass. 

Rumney's  men  rushed  panic-stricken  from  the 
quadrangle,  seeking  protection  beyond  the  angle  of 
the  kitchen  wing.  Their  leader  followed  them.  The 
men  with  the  horses  led  off  the  frightened  animals  to 
the  same  place.  The  court  was  now  clear.  Marry 
ott  returned  to  the  hall. 


322  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  At  this  rate,  we  shall  soon  see  Captain  Rumney's 
heels,  or  his  corpse,"  said  Hal,  to  Kit  Bottle. 

"  I  know  not,"  was  the  reply.  "  We  have  but 
taught  him  the  folly  of  haste  and  open  attack.  He 
will  try  craft  next.  Now  is  the  time  to  watch  every 
hole  by  which  even  a  mouse  might  crawl  into  this 
house.  'Tis  well  that  stout  fellow,  Hatch,  has  guard 
of  the  stable  door.  I  would  the  Puritan  were  back  ! 
I'm  some  troubled  for  the  safety  of  his  saintly  skin. 
He  is  a  likable  dog,  for  all  his  sour  virtuousness. 
God-'a'-mercy,  how  his  conscience  will  bite  at  this 
breakage  of  the  Sabbath  !  " 

Marryott  went  up  to  the  room  where  Tom  and 
Francis  were.  The  sound  of  firing  had  aroused 
them,  and  they  were  in  great  curiosity.  Mistress 
Hazlehurst,  Francis  said,  still  slept.  Marryott  gave 
the  two  lads  a  brief  account  of  matters,  for  the  in 
formation  of  the  lady  if  she  awoke.  He  then  rejoined 
Kit  in  the  hall. 

The  morning  wore  on.  Silence  continued,  with 
out  and  within  the  house.  No  further  sign  came 
of  Rumney's  presence  in  the  vicinity.  Marryott 
began  to  discuss  with  Bottle  the  probabilities  of 
the  robbers  having  fled,  appalled  at  the  utterly 
bootless  loss  of  four  men.  "  Rumney  is  a  device- 
ful  rascal,"  was  the  burden  of  Kit's  replies. 

Hal  made  the  rounds  of  the  house.  Neither 
Moreton  nor  Hatch,  nor  Oliver  at  his  upper  win- 


THE   HORSEMEN  DEPART.  323 

clow,  had  sound  or  sight  of  the  enemy  to  report. 
No  one  was  to  be  seen  from  the  windows.  The 
mounted  watchman  at  the  gate  had  disappeared. 
But,  as  Bottle  said,  when  Marryott  returned  again 
to  the  hall,  these  facts  did  not  answer  the  question 
of  Rumney's  proximity.  There  were  outbuildings, 
detached  from  the  house  ;  in  these  the  rascals  might 
have  taken  refuge  while  biding  the  formation  of  a 
plan.  The  watchman  might  have  concealed  himself 
behind  the  gatehouse. 

While  Hal  and  his  lieutenant  were  sitting  in  talk, 
near  the  fire,  there  arose  a  sound  of  hasty  steps  in 
an  upper  corridor,  and  Oliver  Bunch  appeared  at 
the  stair-head. 

"  Master  Underhill  is  coming  !  "  he  announced,  in 
a  loud,  excited  whisper. 

"Follow  us!"  replied  Hal,  starting  off  with  Kit 
at  once.  The  three  traversed  some  rooms,  a  pas 
sage,  and  part  of  the  kitchen  wing,  and  arrived  in 
the  half  dark  stables. 

"  Open  the  small  door  !  "  called  Marryott,  in  a  low 
tone,  to  John  Hatch.  "  And  stand  all,  with  sword  and 
pistol,  to  bar  the  way  'gainst  any  but  Underhill !  " 

Hatch  undid  the  door,  and  flung  it  wide ;  then 
drew  his  weapons,  and  stood  beside  Marryott  and 
Kit,  just  within  the  entrance.  Behind  these  three 
crouched  Oliver  Bunch,  trembling,  but  with  sword 
and  pistol  in  hand. 


324  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Through  the  blown  flakes  in  the  park,  Anthony 
could  be  seen  riding  madly  for  the  door.  His  cloak 
stood  out  behind  him.  From  his  left  shoulder 
swung  a  bag,  which  evidently  contained  the  ac 
quisitions  of  his  journey  to  the  inn.  In  his  right 
hand  he  held  his  naked  sword.  The  manner  of 
his  riding,  the  direction  of  his  look,  showed  that 
he  saw  possible  enemies  who  might  attempt  to  cut 
him  off. 

Marryott  took  a  step  forth  from  the  stable,  and 
followed  Anthony's  look.  It  was  directed  toward 
a  long  shed,  whose  open  side,  being  from  the  house, 
was  invisible  to  Hal,  but  visible  to  the  Puritan. 
As  the  young  gentleman  fixed  his  glance  on  that 
shed,  there  ran  out  from  it  nine  or  ten  men,  afoot, 
whose  manifest  purpose  was  indeed  to  intercept 
Anthony.  Hal  recognized  them  as  of  Rumney's 
band,  but  their  leader  was  not  with  them.  An 
thony  spurred  his  horse  for  a  final  dash. 

The  foremost  robber  fired  a  pistol.  Anthony's 
horse  swayed,  toppled  over,  lay  quivering  on  its 
side.  The  Puritan  fell  free  of  the  animal,  having 
swung  his  leg  over  its  back  in  the  nick  of  time. 
Ere  he  could  rise,  his  enemies  were  close  upon 
him. 

Marryott  and  Kit  fired  their  pistols  into  the 
pack ;  then  dropped  these  smoking  weapons  inside 
the  stable  door,  and  rushed  out  with  ready  swords 


THE   HORSEMEN  DEPART.  325 

to  save  the  Puritan.  Two  robbers  had  sunk  down 
as  if  tripped  up  by  a  rope,  and  two  behind  these 
fell  over  them  in  the  onward  rush.  The  fellows 
menacing  Anthony,  warned  of  the  coming  of  Hal 
and  Kit  by  the  latter's  loud  -  bellowed  curses, 
turned  so  as  not  to  be  taken  in  the  rear  by  them. 
This  gave  the  Puritan  time  to  rise  to  his  feet. 
While  his  two  rescuers  engaged  the  nearest  knaves, 
Anthony,  to  save  the  provisions,  skirted  the  crowd 
and  made  for  the  door.  But  he  was  headed  off  by 
other  rascals.  John  Hatch  now  ran  forward  to  his 
aid,  leaving  Oliver  Bunch  alone  to  hold  the  doorway. 

Two  robbers,  seeing  this  opportunity  of  gaining 
an  entrance,  charged  the  door.  The  trembling 
Bunch  emptied  his  pistol  into  the  breast  of  one, 
and  made  a  feeble  sword-thrust  at  the  other.  But 
the  sword  was  dashed  from  his  shaking  hand.  Oli 
ver  saw  his  antagonist's  blade  flash  toward  him, 
and  dropped  to  the  ground,  uncertain  whether  he 
was  killed  or  not.  The  robber,  not  to  lose  time, 
and  joined  by  one  of  the  knaves  that  had  previ 
ously  fallen  unhurt,  sprang  over  the  servant's 
body,  and  ran  through  the  stables,  toward  the 
door  to  the  kitchen  wing. 

Kit  Bottle  killed  his  man  in  time  to  meet  the 
attack  of  the  second  fellow  that  had  fallen  unhurt. 
Marryott  was  still  engaging  his  first  opponent,  a 
black-bearded  rascal  of  great  strength  and  agility. 


326  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

Hal  had  at  last  detected  the  weak  place  in  the 
other's  guard,  and  was  about  to  profit  by  it,  when 
suddenly  a  fearful  shriek,  far-off  but  piercing,  made 
his  heart  jump.  It  was  borne  from  a  window  of  the 
further  wing  of  the  mansion  ;  was,  as  he  recognized 
with  a  chill  of  the  senses,  from  Mistress  Hazlehurst. 

He  instantly  leaped  back  from  his  antagonist, 
turned,  and  ran  for  the  open  door.  Half  way  through 
the  stables,  he  came  upon  one  of  the  two  robbers 
that  had  gained  entrance.  The  fellow  wheeled 
about,  at  sound  of  footsteps  behind.  With  a  single 
thrust,  Hal  cleared  the  way  of  him,  and  bounded 
on.  At  the  door  to  the  kitchen  wing,  the  other 
robber  was  encountered  in  similar  manner,  and  was 
as  speedily  removed.  Gaining  the  main  part  of  the 
mansion,  Hal  heard  additional  screams  and  cries  for 
help,  which  now  reached  his  ears  by  indoor  ways. 
Like  a  madman,  he  dashed  through  the  intervening 
rooms,  cleared  the  hall,  rushed  up  the  stairs,  trav 
ersed  the  corridor,  sprang  across  the  outer  room, 
which  was  empty,  and  entered  her  chamber. 

In  the  centre  of  the  apartment  lay  one  of  Rum- 
ney's  men,  apparently  done  for.  Near  him  were 
Francis,  with  a  bleeding  gash  across  his  forehead, 
and  Tom  Cobble,  his  jerkin  reddened  by  a  fresh 
wound  in  the  body.  At  the  open  window,  a  man 
was  holding  ready  the  top  of  a  ladder,  whose  foot 
must  have  rested  on  the  ground  outside ;  while 


"RUMXEY    .    .    .    HACKED    QUICKLY    TO    THE     WINDOW, 
AND    MOUNTED    THE    LEDGE." 


THE  HORSEMEN  DEPART.  327 

another  man  was  tying  the  wrists  of  Mistress  Hazle- 
hurst,  who  was  standing  in  a  half  fainting  position  in 
the  single  available  arm  of  Rumney. 

The  visible  top  of  the  ladder  explained  all.  With 
a  small  force,  leaving  his  other  men  at  the  shed, 
Rumney  had  caused  this  ladder  —  found  in  one  of 
the  outbuildings  —  to  be  stealthily  placed  at  the 
chamber  window,  and  had  made  good  his  ascent  so 
quietly  that  even  Tom  and  Francis,  in  the  outer 
room,  knew  not  of  his  presence  until  apprised  by  the 
shriek  that  had  summoned  Marryott. 

Whether  Rumney  had  known  that  this  was  Anne's 
chamber  might  be  inquired  into  later.  The  present 
business  was  to  rescue  her  from  his  grasp,  and  Hal 
rushed  blindly  forward  to  the  work,  his  sword  still 
dripping  with  the  blood  it  had  taken  in  the  stables. 

A  smile  of  joy  on  Anne's  face,  driving  the  terror 
from  her  eyes,  welcomed  him  to  the  task.  But  ere 
he  could  thrust  at  her  captor,  the  latter  had  swiftly 
turned,  so  as  to  be  shielded  by  her  body.  Rumney 
then,  bearing  her  in  one  arm,  as  if  she  were  of  small 
weight,  backed  quickly  to  the  window,  and  mounted 
the  ledge.  Hal  rushed  after. 

The  man  who  had  been  tying  her  wrists  dropped 
to  his  knees,  caught  Hal's  legs  in  both  arms,  and 
brought  him  heavily  to  the  floor ;  then  clambered 
over  him  on  all  fours,  and  grasped  his  sword-wrist 
with  a  powerful  hand.  Hal  cast  a  glance  of  dismay 


328  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYEK. 

at  Anne,  who  looked  down  at  him  with  astonished 
and  terrified  eyes.  Rumney,  shouting  two  words  as 
to  some  one  holding  the  bottom  of  the  ladder,  be 
strode  the  window,  and  set  foot  on  one  of  the  rounds. 
Doubtless,  having  no  able  arm  free  to  grasp  the 
ladder  with,  he  was  to  be  supported  by  the  man  who 
should  follow  him  down. 

"  God's  light,  she  is  lost !  "  cried  Hal,  in  tones  of 
despair. 

Just  then  there  came,  from  the  direction  of  the 
road,  a  peculiar  sound,  half  cry,  half  whistle.  It 
gave  Captain  Rumney  a  start ;  made  him  turn  pale 
and  stand  still,  with  one  foot  on  the  ladder.  It 
caused  the  man  at  the  ladder's  top  to  look  anxiously 
at  Rumney,  and  the  robber  upon  Hal  to  rise  and 
stride  toward  the  window.  By  the  time  Hal  was 
on  his  feet,  the  call  was  repeated  a  little  nearer. 
Rumney  hesitated  no  longer.  With  a  muffled  oath, 
he  released  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  and  slid,  rather 
than  stepped,  down  the  ladder.  Hal's  man  seized 
Anne,  dragged  her  back  from  the  window  ledge  to 
clear  the  way  for  himself,  and  thereby  —  probably 
without  intention  —  saved  her  from  losing  her  bal 
ance  and  falling  out  of  the  window.  This  rascal  was 
speedily  followed  down  the  ladder  by  the  one  who 
had  held  its  top  ;  and  the  chamber  was  thus  sud 
denly  freed  of  robbers,  excepting  the  inert  one  on 
the  floor. 


THE   HORSEMEN  DEPART.  329 

Marryott's  first  act  was  to  cut  the  bonds  from 
Anne's  wrists.  Motioning  away  his  proffered  further 
assistance,  she  regained  the  bed,  and  lay  down  ex 
hausted,  breathing  rapidly  from  the  excitement  of 
the  recent  peril.  Hal  thereupon  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  saw  Rumney  and  three  men  running 
toward  the  rear  of  the  wing,  behind  which  they  soon 
disappeared.  What  meant  this  sudden  flight  ? 

Marryott  would  have  questioned  Anne,  but  she 
received  his  first  inquiries  with  shakes  of  the  head, 
and  with  an  expressed  desire  to  be  left  alone.  He 
then  examined  the  wounds  of  Francis  and  Tom, 
which  were  painful,  but  apparently  not  serious.  He 
assisted  these  two  to  the  outer  room,  and  dragged 
out  the  body  of  the  robber,  who,  it  proved,  had  fallen 
victim  to  the  long  knife  of  Tom  Cobble.  He  now 
groaned,  and  opened  his  eyes.  Finding  that  he  pos 
sessed  his  senses,  and  promising  to  send  water  to 
him,  Hal  interrogated  him  as  to  why  Rumney  had 
selected  that  particular  window  for  his  stolen  en 
trance.  The  knave  replied,  weakly,  that  when  the 
robbers  first  rode  around  the  house,  they  saw  the 
lady  standing  at  that  window. 

This,  if  true,  was  news  to  both  Francis  and  Tom  ; 
but  they  had  been  asleep  until  roused  by  the  shoot 
ing  below.  It  was  also  a  circumstance  hard  to 
reconcile  with  Anne's  manifest  illness,  and  it  made 
Hal  thoughtful. 


33°  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Returning  to  the  lower  part  of  the  house,  whither 
more  than  one  consideration  called  him,  Hal  was 
surprised  to  encounter  Kit  Bottle  in  the  hall.  The 
captain's  face  was  wet  with  perspiration  and  blood. 

"What?"  cried  Hal.  "Is  all  well  at  the  stable 
door  ? " 

"  Ay,  the  rascals  heard  their  cry  of  danger,  and 
took  to  their  heels  for  the  shed  where  their  horses 
were.  Rumney  and  some  others  joined  them  from 
behind  the  house,  and  forthwith  it  was  switch  and 
spur  with  all  that  were  left  of  them.  They're  off 
now,  like  the  wind." 

"And  Anthony?" 

"  He  and  our  men  are  safe  inside ;  they're  barri 
cading  the  stable  door.  There  be  some  few  scratches 
and  knocks  among  us  ;  nothing  more." 

"  What  made  the  rascals  fly  so  suddenly  ?  A  cry 
of  danger,  say  you  ?  What  danger  ?  " 

"  A  cry  of  danger  raised  by  their  watchman  in  the 
road.  He  joined  them  as  they  fled.  Let  us  go  up 
and  look." 

The  two  ascended  to  the  oriel  whence  Hal  had  fired 
down  on  Rumney's  first  assault.  Kit's  gaze  instantly 
sought  the  road.  At  the  distant  gate  stood  a  large 
group  of  horsemen,  who  appeared  to  have  just  come 
up,  and  to  be  scanning  with  interest  the  front  of 
Foxby  Flail.  Several  of  them  wore  cuirasses  and 
steel  head-pieces.  In  a  moment,  one  of  these 


THE   HORSEMEN  DEPART.  331 

turned  his  horse  toward  the  mansion  ;  the  others 
followed. 

"  Tis  plain  now,"  said  Kit.  "  Rumney's  watch 
man  liked  not  the  looks  of  this  party ;  perhaps  he 
recognized  that  fellow  at  their  head,  and  took  him  to 
be  after  the  Rumney  gang." 

"  And  who  is  the  fellow  at  their  head  ?  "  asked 
Hal,  with  a  strange  thrill, — for  he  divined  already 
the  answer. 

"  'Tis  Roger  Barnet,"  said  Kit,  gruffly. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ROGER    BARNET    SITS    DOWN    TO    SMOKE    SOME 
TOBACCO. 

"  At  least  we'll  die  with  harness  on  our  back." —  Macbeth. 

THE  avenue  by  which  the  pursuivant  and  his  men 
were  approaching  the  house  would  lead  them  first 
near  the  wing  in  which  was  Mistress  Hazlehurst's 
chamber.  Marryott  remembered  the  ladder  still 
outside  her  window. 

"Devil's  name !"  he  cried.  " They  may  enter  as 
Rumney  did  !  Follow  me,  Kit !  " 

He  led  the  way  to  her  chamber.  In  the  outer 
room,  the  wounded  robber  begged  for  the  water  that 
Marryott  had  promised.  But  Hal  first  pointed  out 
to  Kit  the  top  of  the  ladder,  and  then  proceeded  with 
him  to  draw  it  up  into  the  chamber.  This  was  an 
act  of  some  difficulty,  by  reason  of  the  ladder's 
length  and  weight.  When  its  top  struck  the  roof 
of  the  apartment,  it  had  to  be  turned  to  a  horizontal 
position,  and  then  moved  diagonally  across  the  floor, 
so  that  its  foremost  end  should  pass  through  the 
doorway  to  the  outer  room.  While  Hal  guided  this 

332 


ROGER   BARNET  SITS   DOWN   TO   SMOKE.    333 

end,  Bottle  remained  at  the  window,  tugging  at  the 
ladder's  rear. 

It  thus  befell  that  Bottle  alone  was  at  the  window 
when  the  pursuivant's  troop  —  men  far  different  in 
appearance  and  equipment  from   Rumney's  band  — 
rode  into  sight. 

At  one  and  the  same  instant,  Bottle  desisted  from 
his  exertions  and  stared  down  at  the  horsemen,  and 
Roger  Barnet  halted  his  party  with  a  curt  gesture 
and  gazed  with  hard  coolness  up  at  Kit. 

"  I  see  thou  know'st  me,  Hodge,"  growled  Bottle, 
at  last.  At  this,  Marryott  stood  still,  far  within  the 
chamber,  and  listened  for  the  answer. 

It  came,  without  emotion,  in  a  voice  that  suggested 
iron,  as  some  voices  are  said  to  suggest  silver  or  gold. 

"  I  thought  'twas  you,  the  night  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood  ran  away,"  said  Barnet.  "And  'twas 
more  certain,  when  louts  by  the  way  mentioned  an 
ugly  big  rascal,  red-faced  of  drink,  and  of  never 
keeping  fish-days." 

"  I  trust  I  may  still  be  eating  meat  on  fish-days, 
when  thou'rt  eaten  of  worms !  "  replied  Kit. 

"  Thou'lt  fast  a  long  fast,  fish-days  and  other  days, 
when  I  carry  thee  to  London  !  "  said  Barnet.  "  Huds- 
don,  take  ten  men  ;  place  five  behind  this  house,  five 
north  of  it.  Look  you,  Bottle,  tell  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood  I  would  speak  with  him  in  the  queen's 
name." 


334  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"What  if  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  be  not 
here  ?  " 

"Thy  presence  tells  me  he  is." 

"  And  I  also  tell  you  that  he  is  !  "  cried  another 
voice,  that  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  who  had  risen 
from  her  bed  and  rushed  to  the  window.  "  He  is 
here,  Master  Pursuivant !  He  is  in  this  very  room  ! 
He  has  made  a  prisoner  of  me !  " 

"  'Tis  well,  mistress  !  "  replied  Barnet.  "  We'll 
soon  make  a  prisoner  of  him." 

With  that,  and  after  designating  men  to  guard  this 
side  of  the  house,  he  rode  with  others  toward  the 
front,  Hudsdon  having  already  led  away  the  ten  to 
watch  the  rear  and  the  further  side. 

Kit  turned  and  looked  at  Marryott,  but  the  latter 
had  eyes  for  Mistress  Hazlehurst  only.  The  energy 
of  her  movement  from  the  bed  to  the  window,  the 
vigor  of  her  voice,  gave  the  lie  to  her  illness. 

"  'Twas  well  feigned ! "  said  Hal,  quietly,  after 
regarding  her  for  a  short  while  in  silence. 

There  was  a  little  sorrow  in  his  tone,  but  no 
reproach.  His  thought  was  the  same  as  hers,  which 
she  uttered  while  squarely  meeting  his  gaze. 

"  I  had  an  enemy's  right  to  use  what  means  I 
could,  having  once  declared  myself,  and  the  more 
so  as  I  was  your  prisoner." 

"  'Tis  most  true,"  assented  Hal.  He  would  have 
much  liked  to  explain  that  what  saddened  him  was, 


ROGER  BAR  NET  SITS  DOWN   TO  SMOKE.    335 

not  that  she  had  counterfeited  illness,  but  that  she 
had  counterfeited  a  willing  response  to  his  embraces. 
Why  should  she  have  thought  it  necessary  to  carry 
the  pretence  so  far  ?  A  choked,  blinded  feeling  came 
upon  him.  But  he  dared  not  succumb  to  it.  Kit 
Bottle  was  looking  on,  awaiting  orders,  and  the  injured 
robber  was  crying  for  water.  From  the  deceived, 
humiliated  lover,  Marryott  became  perforce  the  alert 
commander  of  besieged  fugitives. 

"This  lady  must  be  watched,"  he  said  to  Kit. 
"Till  I  send  Anthony  to  take  your  place  see  that 
she  does  not,  by  passing  them  this  ladder,  or  by 
hanging  curtains  or  such  stuff  from  the  window, 
give  Barnet's  men  the  means  of  climbing  into  the 
house.  Nay,  mistress,  our  watchman  will  not  disturb 
your  privacy.  From  the  outer  room  he  can  look 
through  the  door  to  your  window.  Seest  thou,  Kit  ? 
—  the  ladder  lying  flat  through  the  doorway  will 
forbid  her  closing  the  door.  If  there  come  sign 
of  her  at  the  window,  or  meddling  with  ladder 
or  door,  then  thou  must  invade  her  chamber, 
and  do  as  may  seem  best.  You  are  warned, 
madam  !  " 

With  a  courteous  bow  he  left  her.  Bottle  estab 
lished  himself  outside  her  door,  squatting  upon  the 
ladder,  his  eye  following  its  side-pieces  across  her 
room  to  the  window. 

In   the  hall,   Marryott  found   Anthony  Underhill 


336  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

listening  passively  to  the  door-knocks  of  Roger 
Barnet,  which  were  accompanied  by  calls  upon  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood  to  open  in  the  queen's  name. 
The  Puritan  assured  Hal  that  the  stable  was  now  as 
strongly  fortified  as  it  had  been  ere  his  departure  in 
quest  of  provisions.  Marryott,  thereupon,  sent  him 
to  take  Kit's  place  at  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  door, 
and  then  despatched  Oliver  Bunch  (who  had  with 
some  surprise  discovered  himself  to  be  still  alive) 
with  water  for  the  wounded  robber,  and  with  instruc 
tions  to  care  for  the  latter's  injuries  and  for  those  of 
Tom  and  Francis. 

Hal  then  made  again  the  round  of  the  house. 
Moreton,  Hatch,  and  the  least  wounded  of  yester 
day's  deserters  from  Rumney,  were  at  their  original 
posts,  to  which  Anthony  had  taken  it  on  himself  to 
order  their  return.  Each  man  reported  that  his  door 
had  been  tried  from  without,  but  that  no  violent 
attempt  had  been  made  to  force  entrance. 

Coming  back  to  the  hall,  Marryott  saw  Kit  Bottle 
mounted  on  a  trestle,  and  surveying  the  quadrangle 
through  a  clear  place  in  a  window. 

"  He  has  had  his  men  dismount  and  the  horses  led 
away,"  said  Kit,  alluding,  of  course,  to  Roger  Barnet. 
"  He  has  set  two  guards,  I  think,  at  the  front  end 
of  each  wing,  and  two  in  the  court.  He  is  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  the  fountain.  He  seems  a  little  lame 
o'  the  leg." 


ROGER  BARNET  SITS  DOWN   TO   SMOKE.    337 

"What  think  you  is  his  intent?"  asked  Marryott, 
not  risking  to  Barnet  a  possible  glimpse  of  his  face, 
for  fear  of  an  untimely  undeceiving. 

"  'Tis  for  time  to  show.  He  will  either  attack  or 
wait.  But  'tis  less  like  he  will  attack." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  a  prudent  dog  and  a  patient. 
Those  gaping  bodies  on  the  snow  tell  how  Rum- 
ney's  gang  fared  'gainst  men  firing  from  inside  these 
stout  walls.  Barnet  thinks  he  has  the  hare  mewed 
up,  and  'tis  as  cheap  to  wait  for't  to  venture  out  as 
'tis  to  risk  flesh  and  blood  in  trying  to  come  at  it. 
And,  moreover,  a  fight  might  give  the  man  he  seeks 
a  chance  to  die  by  sword  or  pistol,  whereas  'tis  a 
point  of  honor  with  Barnet  to  take  his  prisoner  well 
and  whole  to  London.  He  is  a  feeder  of  headsman's 
blocks  and  hangman's  nooses !  Ay,  he  has  chosen 
to  wait ;  'tis  certain  now." 

"  How  know'st  thou  ?  " 

"  He  is  filling  his  tobacco-pipe,  and  motioning  one 
of  his  men  for  use  of  a  slow-match.  When  Roger 
sits  down  to  smoke,  he  hath  made  up  his  mind  for 
a  season  of  waiting.  And  there  is  no  man  can  out- 
wait  Roger  Barnet  when  he  is  sucking  his  Nicotian. 
He  is  then  truly  patience  on  a  monument,  as  Master 
Shakespeare's  comedy  says." 

"  If  he  wait  till  to-morrow  night,  my  work  for 
others  will  be  done !  'Twill  be  six  days  since  we 


338  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

left  Welwyn,  and  'twill  take  four  and  over,  in  this 
weather,  for  any  man  to  ride  back  thither." 

"  And  then  'tis  a  matter  of  our  own  necks,  I  ween  ! 
Let  me  tell  thee  this,  lad  :  While  Roger  Barnet 
thinks  the  man  he  wants  is  in  this  house,  he  will  wait 
to  starve  him  out,  though  he  wait  till  doomsday. 
And  if  he  learns  'tis  not  his  man  that  he  hath  been 
chasing,  he  will  infer  that  the  other  man  is  by  that 
time  'scaped,  and  he  will  wait  still  for  the  man  that 
has  tricked  him.  He  will  carry  some  victim  back  to 
London  for  this,  be  sure  on't !  " 

Kit  had  come  down  from  the  trestle,  and  was 
standing  with  Hal  at  the  fireplace. 

"Well,  after  to-morrow,"  said  Marryott,  "we  may 
use  our  wits,  or  our  valor  and  skill,  to  break  through 
the  circle  he  has  drawn  around  us." 

"  'Twill  take  sharp  wits  to  slip  through  Roger 
Barnet's  vigilance,  now  he  has  closed  around  us. 
As  for  valor  and  skill,  what  shall  boot  our  small 
force  'gainst  his,  who  are  stout  men  all,  well  armed, 
and  most  of  them  clad  above  the  waist  in  steel  ? 
Tut,  lad,  don't  think  old  Kit  is  disturbed  upon  it ! 
I'll  die  as  well  as  another,  and  better  than  most !  I 
tell  thee  these  things  merely  in  fireside  talk,  as 
I  should  speak  of  the  weather." 

"  How  if  we  shoot  Barnet,  from  one  of  the  win 
dows  ? " 

"'Twould   not  help.     Firstly,  as  the  preacher  at 


ROGER   BARNET  SITS  DOWN  TO  SMOKE.    339 

Paul's  Cross  says,  we  might  miss  him,  or  his  cuirass 
and  morion  might  save  him.  He  might  take  offence, 
and  act  as  if  we  forced  a  fight  upon  his  patience ; 
might  set  fire  to  the  timber  part  of  this  house  and 
burn  us  out  betimes.  Secondly,  if  we  killed  Barnet, 
his  man  Hudsdon  might  do  the  burning.  Hudsdon, 
look  you,  is,  in  his  particular  humor,  a  man  of 
as  good  mettle  as  Barnet.  These  be  no  Rum- 
neys  ! " 

"  But  if  we  so  diminished  Barnet's  troop,  by  shoot 
ing  them  one  by  one  from  the  windows,  then  we  might 
sally  forth,  fire  or  no  fire,  with  fair  chance  of  cutting 
our  way  through." 

"  Ay,  were  it  not  that,  for  every  man  we  slew,  Bar- 
net  would  send  to  Harmby  or  elsewhere  for  two  men 
to  fill  the  vacant  post.  As  'tis,  the  foul  weather, 
and  the  pride  of  doing  his  own  work  unhelped,  will 
stay  him  from  demanding  aid  of  the  country ;  but 
an  we  force  him  to  it,  ere  he  give  us  the  upper 
hand  he  will  use  to  the  full  his  power  of  pressing 
men,  and  requiring  local  officers,  in  the  queen's 
name." 

"Why,  then,  is  there  no  course,  no  chance?" 

"  None  but  what  time  may  bring,  and  time  we 
shall  gain  by  letting  Roger  wait.  He  will  stay  where 
he  is,  in  hope  of  starvation  driving  out  his  man  weak 
and  easy  to  be  taken,  or  of  our  knaves  rebelling  from 
hungry  stomachs  and  delivering  up  their  leader. 


34°  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

But  we'll  see  to  it  the  men  be  staunch  ;  and  some 
time  must  pass  before  our  bellies  take  to  grinding 
one  side  'gainst  the  other  !  " 

"  Tis  well  Anthony  brought—  "  began  Marryott, 
but  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Oliver  Bunch 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"An't  please  your  honor,"  said  Oliver,  "the  lady 
desired  I  should  ask  when  she  might  have  breakfast, 
for  that  she  is  faint  with  hunger." 

"Why,  so  am  I ;  and  the  rest  of  us,  I  doubt  not," 
said  Marryott.  "  We  shall  eat  forthwith.  Where  are 
the  provisions  Anthony  brought,  Kit  ?  " 

"  I  thought  to  have  told  you  sooner,"  replied  the 
captain,  in  a  strangely  resigned  manner  ;  "  in  the 
fray  outside  the  stable  door,  Rumney's  knaves  got 
Anthony's  bag  of  victuals  from  him,  and  when  they 
ran  off  they  forgot  to  leave  it  behind  !  " 

There  was  a  considerable  silence,  during  which  Kit 
Bottle  looked  darkly  into  the  fire,  and  Marryott  mut 
tered  several  times  under  his  breath,  "  A  murrain 
on't !  "  Then,  adopting  the  captain's  mien  of  un- 
complaint,  Hal  said  to  Oliver  : 

"  Tell  the  lady  we  have  no  food  and  can  get  none. 
Later,  I  may  contrive  to  obtain  some  for  her,  from 
the  enemy  that  surrounds  us." 

"  Why,"  said  Kit  Bottle,  as  Oliver  disappeared, 
"  an  thou  dost  that,  thou'lt  betray  our  empty  state  to 
Roger  Barnet." 


ROGER   BARNET  SITS  DOWN   TO  SMOKE.    341 

"What  matter?"  said  Hal.  "We  can  hold  out 
two  days,  that's  certain.  And  after  that,  —  Barnet 
will  but  know  he  need  smoke  the  less  tobacco  till 
our  starving  out,  that's  all !  " 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

ROGER    BARNET    CONTINUES    TO    SMOKE    TOBACCO. 
"  The  best  man  best  knows  patience."  —  Thierry  and  Theodorct. 

THE  day  dragged  on,  —  grayest  of  gray  Sundays. 
The  snowfall  ceased,  but  the  sky  remained  ashen, 
and  the  wind  still  moaned  intermittently,  though 
with  subdued  and  failing  voice.  In  the  great,  silent 
house,  faint  creaks  had  the  startling  effect  of  detona 
tions,  and  the  flapping  of  tapestry  in  the  wind 
seemed  fraught  with  mysterious  omen. 

Marryott,  in  the  course  of  his  next  round  of  the 
mansion,  told  the  men  of  the  loss  of  the  provisions. 
Some  of  them  had  already  known  of  it.  No  com 
plaint  was  uttered.  The  men  replied  with  a  half 
respectful,  half  familiar  jest,  or  with  good-humored 
expression  of  willingness  to  fast  awhile.  Fortu 
nately,  the  supply  of  water  was  such  as  to  obviate 
any  near  dread  of  the  tortures  of  thirst. 

When  he  went  to  the  room  adjoining  Mistress 
Hazlehurst's  chamber,  Marryott  found  Tom,  Francis, 
and  the  robber,  all  three  quiescent  under  the  minis- 

342 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES   TO   SMOKE.    343 

trations  of  Oliver  Bunch.  Anthony  Underbill,  seated 
on  a  trunk  that  he  had  placed  on  the  end  of  the  pros 
trate  ladder,  was  observing  the  Sabbath  by  singing 
to  himself  a  psalm.  Scarce  audible  as  was  his  voice, 
it  still  had  something  of  that  whine  which  the  early 
English  Puritans,  like  the  devoutest  of  the  French 
Huguenots,  put  into  their  vocal  worship,  and  from 
which  some  think  the  nasal  twang  of  the  Puritans' 
New  England  descendants  is  derived. 

Mistress  Hazlehurst  either  was,  or  wished  to  seem, 
asleep ;  for  when  Marryott  knocked  softly  upon  her 
half  open  door,  that  he  might  more  courteously 
explain  to  her  the  lack  of  food,  she  gave  no 
answer. 

He,  thereupon,  sent  Kit  Bottle  to  the  oriel  window 
to  sound  Roger  Barnet's  mind  toward  supplying  the 
prisoner,  who  was  indeed  to  be  considered  the  pur 
suivant's  ally,  with  food. 

Kit  put  the  necessary  question,  taking  care  to 
show  no  more  of  his  person  than  was  needful,  and 
to  keep  his  eyes  upon  the  firearms  of  the  pursuivant 
and  the  two  guards  in  the  court. 

But  Roger  Barnet,  who  still  sat  smoking  with 
a  kind  of  hard,  surly  impassibility,  made  no  move 
ment  as  to  his  pistols.  Neither  did  he  show  a 
thought  of  ordering  his  men  to  fire.  He  evinced 
a  certain  grim  satisfaction  at  the  evidence  that  the 
besieged  had  no  provisions.  He  then  expressed  a 


344  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

suspicion  that  Kit  was  using  the  lady's  name  in 
'order  to  obtain  food  for  his  own  party,  and  said 
that  if  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  desired  the  lady 
not  to  hunger,  Sir  Valentine  might  set  her  free. 
He,  Barnet,  would  provide  her  with  an  escort  to 
some  neighboring  inn  or  gentleman's  house. 

But  Marryott,  who  was  listening  unseen  at  Kit's 
elbow,  dared  not  yet  risk  her  describing  himself  as 
Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  to  the  pursuivant ;  and  so 
he  prompted  Kit  to  reply  that  the  lady  was  too  ill 
to  go  at  present  from  the  house.  To  which  Roger, 
between  vast  puffs  of  smoke,  tranquilly  replied  that 
he  feared  the  lady  must  for  the  present  go  hungry. 

Afire  with  wrath  at  this  stolid  churlishness,  -Hal 
caused  Kit  to  remind  Barnet  that  the  lady  had  come 
into  her  present  case  through  aiding  the  pursuivant 
himself.  Roger  answered  that  he  had  not  requested 
the  lady's  assistance.  At  Marryott's  further  whis 
pered  orders,  Kit  informed  Barnet  that,  but  for  her 
work,  the  latter  should  not  at  that  moment  have  had 
Sir  Valentine  surrounded.  Roger  replied  that  he 
had  only  Kit's  word  for  that ;  moreover,  what  mat 
tered  it  ?  He  was  not  responsible  for  the  lady's  ill 
fortune,  even  if  she  were  creditable  with  his  good 
fortune.  In  short,  and  by  God's  light,  he  would  not 
let  any  food  enter  that  house  unless  he  and  his  men 
went  in  with  it ! 

"  When  your  bellies  will  no  more  away  with  their 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO  SMOKE.    345 

emptiness,  open  the  door  and  let  us  in,"  he  added, 
phlegmatically,  and  replaced  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  as 
if  the  last  word  had  been  said. 

"Nay,  thou  swinish  rogue,"  said  Kit,  "we're 
better  taught  than  to  leave  doors  open  in  March 
weather!"  He  then  bombarded  his  old-time  com 
rade  of  Walsingham's  day  with  hard  names.  Barnet 
showed  no  resentment,  but  continued  to  smoke  stol 
idly.  At  last,  when  his  reviler  had  well-nigh  ex 
hausted  the  vocabulary  of  Thersites,  Roger  began 
to  finger  abstractedly  the  butt  of  one  of  his  pistols ; 
at  which  gentle  intimation,  Kit  suddenly  disappeared 
from  the  window. 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  said  he  to  Marryott. 
"  She  must  starve  with  the  rest  of  us  unless  you  set 
her  free." 

"  That  I  must  not  do  till  Tuesday  morning,"  said 
Hal,  with  an  inward  sigh.  He  went  from  the  gal 
lery,  and  told  Francis,  for  Mistress  Hazlehurst's 
information  should  she  inquire,  of  the  failure  of 
his  attempt  to  obtain  food  for  her.  She  still  slept, 
or  feigned  sleep. 

Marryott  then  newly  assigned  the  posts  to  be 
guarded,  dividing  the  company  into  two  watches, 
one  headed  by  himself,  the  other  by  Bottle.  The 
latter  took  the  first  period  of  duty.  The  men  who 
were  thus  for  a  time  relieved  were  prompt  to  assuage 
their  thirst,  though  water  was  a  beverage  unusual  to 


346  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

them  ;  then  they  stretched  themselves  on  the  rushes 
in  the  hall  to  sleep.  Hal  also  slept. 

At  evening,  being  awakened  by  Kit,  he  and  his 
quota  of  men  arose  to  do  sentinel  duty  during  the 
first  half  of  the  night. 

"  Is  Barnet  still  yonder  ? "  he  asked  Kit,  before 
leaving  the  hall. 

"  No  ;  he  has  set  Hudsdon  in's  place.  Roger  has 
divided  his  troop  into  watches.  He  and  some  of  his 
men  have  made  their  beds  in  the  outhouses.  Huds 
don  and  the  rest  have  planted  torches  in  a  line  around 
the  house.  There's  not  an  ell's  distance  of  the  man 
sion's  outside,  from  ground  to  second  story,  that 
cannot  be  seen  by  the  torch-light.  The  men  are 
posted  beyond  the  line,  out  of  our  sight ;  only  here 
and  there  you  may  catch  now  and  then  the  light 
of  a  slow-match  that  some  fellow  blows.  If  we 
made  a  sortie  from  the  house  into  their  torch-light, 
they  would  mow  us  down  with  muskets  and  arque 
buses  from  the  dark." 

Marryott  sat  out  his  watch  in  a  partly  torpid  state 
of  mind.  The  deception  that  Mistress  Hazlehurst 
had  practised  upon  him,  though  he  acknowledged  an 
avowed  enemy's  and  unwilling  prisoner's  right  to 
practise  it,  had  struck  down  his  heart,  benumbed  it, 
robbed  it  of  hope  and  of  its  zest  for  life.  He  thought 
of  nothing  but  present  trifles  —  the  writhing  of  the 
flames  in  the  fireplace,  the  snoring  of  the  sleepers 


ROGER  BARNET  CONTINUES    TO  SMOKE.    347 

on  the  hall  floor —  and  his  chances  of  accomplishing 
his  mission.  All  things,  he  felt,  could  be  endured, 
—  all  but  failure  in  the  task  he  had  so  far  carried 
toward  success.  Regarding  his  life,  which  indeed 
seemed  to  be  doomed,  he  was  apathetic. 

During  the  second  half  of  the  night,  Marryott 
slumbered,  Bottle  watched.  Dawn  found  Roger 
Barnet  again  at  the  fountain's  edge,  again  smoking. 
But,  as  Kit  observed  while  furtively  inspecting  him 
through  a  window,  he  puffed  a  little  more  vehe 
mently,  was  somewhat  petulant  in  his  motions,  more 
often  changed  position.  Bottle,  from  having  known 
him  of  old,  and  from  his  slight  lameness,  took  it  that 
he  was  in  some  pain. 

His  injured  leg  was,  indeed,  a  seat  of  great  tor 
ment  ;  but  of  this,  being  stoical  as  well  as  taciturn, 
the  frowning  man  of  iron  gave  no  other  sign  than 
the  tokens  of  irritation  noticed  by  Kit. 

"  I'm  afeard  Roger  will  be,  later,  of  a  mind  to 
hasten  matters,"  said  the  captain.  "  Peradventure 
his  tobacco  is  falling  low." 

"  I  pray  'twill  last  till  the  morrow,"  said  Marryott. 

This  morning  (Monday)  the  sky  was  clear,  but  it 
was  a  cold  sun  that  shone  down  upon  the  world  of 
snow  around  beleaguered  Foxby  Hall.  Marryott 
was  on  the  watch  till  noon.  Then,  Kit  having 
taken  his  place,  and  before  lying  down  to  sleep,  he 
went  to  see  if  Mistress  Hazlehurst  had  aught  to 


348  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

request.  He  felt  that,  though  his  position  as  her 
captor  was  one  of  necessity,  it  nevertheless  required 
of  him  a  patient  attention  to  all  complaints  and 
reproaches  she  might  make. 

But  she  made  none.  To  his  inquiry,  spoken  after 
a  gentle  knock  upon  her  door,  she  answered  that  she 
desired  of  him  nothing  under  heaven  but  to  be  left 
alone.  If  she  must  starve,  she  would  choose  to 
starve  not  before  spectators.  He  informed  her 
that  he  intended  to  give  her,  on  the  morrow,  her 
freedom,  as  the  royal  pursuivant  had  offered  her  an 
escort  and  might  be  trusted  to  treat  a  lady  with 
respect.  To  this  she  made  no  reply.  Hal  there 
upon  went  away. 

When  he  was  awakened  to  resume  guard  duty,  at 
evening,  he  learned  from  Kit  that  the  afternoon  had 
been  without  occurrence.  Roger  Barnet  had  con 
tinued  to  show  signs  of  an  ailing  body,  and  hence  of 
an  ailing  temper,  but  had  not  deviated  from  his 
policy  of  waiting.  The  men  in  the  house  were  very 
hungry ;  they  had  ceased  jesting  about  their  en 
forced  fast,  and  had  betaken  themselves  to  dumb 
endurance.  Hal  was  made  aware  by  his  own  pangs 
of  the  stomach,  his  own  feverish  weakness  of  the 
body,  how  they  must  be  suffering,  though  only  two 
days  of  abstinence  had  passed. 

The  precautions  of  the  besiegers  this  evening  were 
like  those  of  the  preceding  night.  Marryott  looked 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO   SMOKE.    349 

more  than  once,  through  narrow  openings  in  the 
windows,  at  the  torches  lighting  up  redly  the  snow 
that  stretched  away  from  the  walls  of  the  man 
sion. 

Some  time  after  dark,  while  Marryott  was  pacing 
the  hall,  Kit  Bottle  suddenly  awoke,  and  after  gazing 
around  a  few  moments,  said,  quietly  : 

"  Methinks,  lad,  'tis  eight  o'clock,  or  after." 

"  'Tis  so,  I  think,"  replied  Hal,  softly. 

"Then  'tis  full  six  days  since  we  rode  from  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood's  gate." 

"Ay,  just  six  days." 

"  Then  thy  work  is  done,  boy !  " 

"  'Tis  done,  old  Kit ;  and  thanks  to  thee  and 
Anthony,  with  your  true  hearts,  strong  bodies,  and 
shrewd  heads  !  " 

"  Thou'rt  a  valiant  and  expert  gentleman,  Hal ; 
beshrew  me  else  !  " 

Whereupon  the  old  soldier  turned  upon  his  side, 
and  slept  again,  and  Hal  looked  dreamily  into  the 
fire. 

Their  words  had  been  no  louder  than  whispers. 
Nor  was  Hal's  feeling  aught  like  the  bursting  ela 
tion,  the  triumph  that  would  shout,  the  joy  that 
intoxicates.  It  was  but  a  gentle  transition  from 
suspense  to  relief,  from  anxiety  to  ease  of  mind ;  a 
mild  but  permeating  glow  of  satisfaction ;  a  sweet 
consciousness  of  having  done  a  hard  task,  a  con- 


3 SO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

sciousness  best  expressed  by  a  single  sigh  of 
content,  a  faint  smile  of  self -applause. 

At  midnight,  giving  place  again  to  Kit,  Marryott 
sank  into  a  troubled  sleep,  in  which  he  dreamed  of 
juicy  beef,  succulent  ham,  every  kind  of  plump  fowl, 
well  basted,  and  the  best  wines  of  France,  Spain, 
Italy,  and  the  Rhine.  He  woke  to  tortures  of  the 
stomach,  and  the  news  that  Roger  Barnet  was  still 
smoking,  but  peevishly  walking,  despite  his  lameness 
of  leg,  to  and  fro  in  the  courtyard. 

"  I  tell  thee,  Hal,"  said  Bottle,  after  imparting 
this  information,  "  we  may  look  to  see  things  afoot 
soon  !  If  Roger  is  a  devil  of  pertinacity  when  he  is 
upon  the  chase,  and  a  devil  of  patience  when  he 
waits,  he  is  a  devil  of  activity  when  his  body  ails 
overmuch  !  " 

"  We  shall  be  the  sooner  forced,  then,  to  set  our 
lives  upon  a  cast !  " 

"  Ay,  and  better  work  losing  them,  than  stretching 
them  out  to  the  anguish  of  our  bellies  !  This  fast 
ing  is  an  odious  business.  The  men  are  chewing 
the  firewood  and  their  leather  jerkins." 

"  Have  they  complained  ?  "  asked  Hal. 

"  Not  a  dog  among  'em  !  These  be  choice  ras 
cals  all !  They  bear  hunger  with  no  more  words 
than  dumb  beasts.  They'll  starve  with  thee,  or  die 
with  thee,  to  the  last  knave  of  them  !  " 

Marryott  looked  silently  at  Bottle ;  and  saw  in  his 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO  SMOKE.    35! 

face  the  very  dog-like  fidelity  he  described  in  the 
others.  He  knew  what  uncomplaining,  unpretending 
steadfastness  there  was  in  Anthony  Underbill,  too. 

"  Brave  hearts  !  "  murmured  Hal,  and  the  next 
instant  he  had  taken  a  resolution. 

"  Is  Roger  Barnet  a  keeper  of  his  word  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  When  he  hath  not  overmuch  to  lose  by  it," 
replied  Kit,  wondering  at  the  question. 

"  If,  on  condition  of  his  letting  mine  innocent  fol 
lowers  go  free,  I  proposed  to  shorten  his  task  by 
giving  myself  up,  and  he  agreed  thereto,  would  he 
keep  that  agreement  ? " 

"  But,  God's  death,  Hal,  thou'lt  propose  no  such 
thing !  " 

"  Thou'lt  propose  it  for  me  ;  till  all  is  done  I  must 
not  show  my  face.  And  thou'lt  not  name  me  as  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood,  but  speak  of  me  merely  as  the 
gentleman  you  serve.  So  when  Barnet  discovers  I 
am  not  the  knight,  he  will  find  himself  still  bound 
by  his  word  to  the  condition." 

"  But  old  Kit  will  never  be  go-between  to  buy  his 
life  with  thy  giving  thyself  up  !  " 

"  'Troth,  thou  wilt !  For,  look  you,  since  I  must 
in  any  case  be  taken,  why  need  also  my  men  suffer  ? 
Wilt  rob  me  of  my  one  consolation,  the  saving  of  my 
faithful  followers  ?  Wilt  send  me  entirely  sad  of 
heart  to  London  ?  Wilt  not  let  me  cheer  myself 


352  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

with  knowledge  of  having  done  this  little  deed 
befitting  a  gentleman  ?  Have  I  not  full  right  to  get 
my  self -approval  by  this  act  ?  Wouldst  thou  hinder 
my  using  the  one  right  by  which  I  may  somewhat 
comfort  myself  ?  Thou  wilt  do  as  I  bid  thee,  old 
Kit ;  else  I  swear  on  this  crossed  hilt  I  will  go 
forth  at  once,  and  surrender  myself  the  more  un 
happily  for  that  I  may  not  save  my  men !  " 

"  Nay,  Hal,  softly !  If  the  thing  lies  so  to  thy 
heart,  'tis  not  old  Kit  shall  go  against  thy  wish.  But 
I  have  the  right  of  giving  myself  up  with  thee. 
Save  the  rest  an  thou  wilt,  I  shall  not  be  sorry. 
But  let  Kit  Bottle  attend  thee  still,  to  the  end  of 
it!" 

"  Now  thou  talkest  arrant  foolishness,  Kit !  For 
look  you,  if  thou'rt  free,  canst  thou  not  serve  me  to 
the  better  effect  ?  Consider  how  many  miles  and 
days  it  is  to  London.  Once  I  am  this  fellow's  pris 
oner,  and  seem  to  have  no  will  or  spirit  left,  may  not 
my  guards  grow  heedless  ?  An  thou  art  free,  riding 
after  me  to  London,  who  can  say  what  chance  may 
not  occur  for  rescue  and  escape  ?  Let  me  but  save 
thee  and  these  true  fellows  by  giving  myself  up ; 
then  may  we  look  for  means  of  saving  myself  on  the 
journey  to  London."  Hal  said  this  but  to  induce 
Kit  to  accept  freedom  with  the  others  if  it  could  be 
obtained,  and  it  seemed  to  make  the  desired  impres 
sion. 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO   SMOKE.    353 

"Why,  there  is  something  in  that,"  said  Kit, 
thoughtfully.  "  But  we  have  been  wasting  talk. 
Roger  Barnct,  now  that  thy  taking  is  but  matter  of 
time,  will  not  make  terms.  He  is  no  man  for  con 
cessions  or  half-way  meetings." 

"  But  he  hath  much  to  gain  by  my  offer  :  the  time 
saved,  the  certainty  of  taking  his  man  alive  and 
without  loss  to  his  own  party,  the  greater  ease  of 
carrying  one  prisoner  than  many  to  London.  He 
should  be  glad  of  pretext  to  be  rid  of  the  under 
lings." 

"  Truly  said,  in  sooth.  But  the  nature  of  the  man 
is  against  making  treaty  with  an  opponent,  e'en 
though  to  his  own  advantage." 

Marryott  thought  for  a  moment.     Then  he  said  : 

"  Let  him  not  seem  to  make  treaty  with  his 
opponent.  Let  the  treaty  be  with  my  seeming  be 
trayers.  This  will  better  accord  with  his  nature, 
methinks.  My  men  shall  offer  to  give  me  up  to 
him,  in  purchase  of  their  own  freedom.  So  will  he 
regard  my  men  as  choosing  to  become  his  allies,  and 
he  will  think  that  through  them  he  gets  the  better 
of  their  master  ;  he  will  have  justification  for  letting 
them  go  free." 

"  By  my  troth,  thou'rt  a  knower  of  men,  Hal ! 
Roger  would  be  ashamed  to  profit  by  a  treaty  with 
his  enemy,  but  not  by  treachery  of  that  enemy's  fol 
lowing.  There'll  be  some  relish  in  fooling  him  thus  !  " 


354  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"Then  set  straightways  about  it.  Speak  to  him 
from  the  oriel,  stealthily,  as  befits  the  seeming 
treason." 

"  I  hate  even  to  seem  traitor  to  thee,  Hal ;  but 
'tis  for  thy  purposes,  and  to  make  a  gull  of  Roger 
Barnet." 

With  which  the  captain  mounted  the  stairs  leading 
to  the  gallery,  leaving  Marryott  waiting  by  the  fire. 

Kit  had  the  skill  of  gesture  and  grimace,  to  convey 
across  the  quadrangle  to  his  one-time  comrade  that 
secret  things  were  to  be  told,  and  that  a  truce,  if 
granted,  would  not  on  his  part  be  violated.  Barnet, 
who  could  rely  upon  the  steel  he  wore  and  the  pistols 
he  carried,  as  well  as  on  Kit's  pantomimic  word  of 
honor,  strode  boldly  over  to  a  place  beneath  the 
window.  With  an  appearance  of  great  caution,  Kit 
asked  him,  on  behalf  of  himself  and  his  comrades, 
not  of  the  gentleman  they  served,  what  would  be 
done  with  them  if  they  were  taken.  Roger  lightly 
answered  that  he  would  see  them  hanged.  This  led 
naturally  to  the  broaching  of  Kit's  terms. 

The  ensuing  conversation  was  of  some  length,  and 
carried  on  mostly  by  Kit,  who  skilfully  put  before 
the  pursuivant's  mind  the  advantages  to  be  gained 
by  accepting  the  offer.  Now,  as  Barnet's  warrant 
called  for  Kit's  supposed  employer  only,  as  Barnet 
had  been  so  many  days  from  London,  as  the  lame 
ness  of  his  leg  tried  his  patience,  as  the  mansion 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO  SMOKE.     355 

looked  impregnable,  and  as  he  was  loath  to  resort  to 
local  assistance  in  storming  it,  it  really  seemed  folly 
for  him  to  reject  an  important  bird  in  hand  for  the 
doubtful  satisfaction  of  bagging  a  number  of  insig 
nificant  birds  who  might  prove  only  a  burden  to  him. 
He  held  out,  however,  until  he  could  bring  himself 
to  relinquish  the  cherished  hope  of  conducting  his 
old  friend  Bottle  to  the  gallows. 

It  was  at  last  agreed  that  Kit  and  his  comrades 
should  deliver  over  their  commander,  disarmed  and 
with  wrists  bound,  at  the  main  door,  within  half  an 
hour. 

As  soon  as  Marryott  was  informed  of  this,  he 
summoned  all  the  men  (save  Kit,  to  whom  was 
assigned  the  guardianship  of  Mistress  Hazlehurst's 
chamber  for  the  while),  and  told  them  of  the  agree 
ment.  They  stared  at  him  and  at  one  another 
with  little  show  of  feeling,  and  in  silence,  excepting 
Anthony,  who  muttered  : 

"  I  had  as  lief  I  had  been  left  out  of  the  purchase." 

"  Go  to  Mistress  Hazlehurst's  door,  Anthony," 
said  Marryott,  "  and  send  hither  Captain  Bottle,  that 
he  may  tie  my  hands  and  deliver  me  forth.  And 
conduct  the  lady  hither,  that  she  may  go  forth  at 
the  same  time.  I  think  she  will  not  delay,  for  you 
will  tell  her  she  is  to  have  her  freedom." 

He  then  divided  his  money  among  the  men,  that 
they  might  shift  for  themselves  after  his  surrender ; 


356  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

obtained  the  promise  of  the  able-bodied  to  care  for 
the  wounded  ;  and  finally  ordered  them  to  remove 
the  defences  of  the  door.  Hal  had  previously  fur 
nished  Kit's  purse ;  Anthony  had  his  own  supply  of 
coin. 

When  Mistress  Hazlehurst  came  down  the  stairs, 
a  little  pale  and  haggard  from  her  fast,  but  no  less 
beautiful  of  eye  and  outline,  and  with  no  less  clear 
ness  of  skin,  Marryott  stood  already  bound,  Kit  at 
his  side,  the  men  waiting  silently  in  the  background. 
She  noticed  that  Hal's  hands  were  behind  his  back, 
but  could  not  make  sure  whether  they  were  tied. 
Slightly  puzzled  at  the  scene,  she  looked  back  at 
Anthony  as  for  an  explanation. 

Kit  Bottle  motioned  one  of  the  men  to  open  the 
door ;  he  then  indicated  to  Mistress  Hazlehurst,  by 
a  gesture,  that  she  might  pass  out.  She  did  so,  in 
some  wonder.  Francis,  whose  head  was  bandaged, 
followed  her.  Anthony  stopped  at  the  other  side 
of  Marryott  than  that  on  which  Kit  Bottle  was. 

Beyond  the  porch  outside,  and  facing  the  door, 
stood  Roger  Barnet ;  several  men  were  in  line  on 
either  hand  of  the  way.  The  pursuivant  looked  at 
Anne  as  if  she  were  not  the  one  he  expected.  He 
made  way  for  her  to  pass,  however ;  but  as  soon  as 
she  had  done  so,  she  turned  and  looked  curiously 
back  at  the  open  door. 

Forth  came  the  supposed  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood, 


ROGER   BARNET  CONTINUES    TO  SMOKE.     357 

walking  listlessly,  his  hands  still  behind  his  back, 
Kit  and  Anthony  grasping  him  by  either  shoul 
der. 

"Take  your  man,  master  pursuivant,"  said  Bottle, 
huskily.  He  and  the  Puritan  then  stopped,  and 
seemed  to  thrust  their  prisoner  slightly  forward 
for  Barnet's  acceptance ;  but  they  still  held  his 
shoulders. 

Barnet,  whose  left  hand  clasped  a  document,  took 
a  step  toward  the  prisoner,  who  perforce  remained 
motionless.  Then  the  pursuivant  paused,  and  stared 
at  Hal  with  a  mixture  of  bewilderment  and  slow- 
gathering  dismay.  The  armed  men  craned  their 
necks  to  see  the  object  of  their  long  pursuit. 

"Why,"  said  Barnet,  his  voice  faltering  for  once, 
"  this  is  not  the  man  !  " 

Mistress  Hazlehurst  became  acutely  attentive. 

"  'Tis  the  gentleman  we  have  served  these  last  six 
days,"  replied  Kit  Bottle,  with  great  composure. 

"  God's  life !  "  cried  Barnet,  having  recovered  full 
vocal  energy,  "  there  is  a  scurvy  trick  here,  to  give 
Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  chance  of  leaving  this  house 
while  I'm  befooled  !  But  'twill  not  serve  !  All  sides 
are  watched !  Into  the  house,  you  four ;  search 
every  corner,  and  drag  out  the  fox  !  " 

The  men  to  whom  Barnet  spoke  hastened  to  obey, 
leaving  four  of  their  comrades  with  their  leader. 

"  They'll  find  naught,  Roger,"  said  Kit.    "  I  swear 


A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

this  gentleman  is  he  we  have  been  travelling  with 
from  Welwyn." 

"  He  says  truly,  pursuivant ! "  cried  Mistress 
Hazlehurst,  stepping  forward  to  Barnet's  side. 
"  'Tis  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood,  of  a  surety ;  for 
I,  too,  have  travelled  with  him  these  six  days." 

"  I  don't  gainsay  you  have  travelled  with  him, 
lady,"  said  Barnet.  "  But  if  you  take  him  for  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood,  either  you  know  not  Sir  Valen 
tine  as  well  as  I  do,  or  your  eyes  play  you  tricks !  " 

"  Nay,"  put  in  Marryott,  quietly,  "  blame  not 
others'  eyes,  man,  till  your  own  eyes  never  see 
false !  "  With  which  he  thrust  out  his  left  elbow, 
stiffened  his  neck,  and  took  on  what  other  outward 
peculiarities  he  had  caught  from  Sir  Valentine. 

"By  the  foul  fiend,"  said  Barnet,  in  a  tone  that 
befitted  his  dark,  wrathful  look,  "there  has  been 
some  kind  of  vile  player's  work  here  !  'Twas  a  false 
beard,  that  night !  " 

"Ay!"  spoke  up  one  of  his  men.  "I  have  won 
dered  where  to  place  the  gentleman.  Your  word 
player  sets  me  right.  He  is  an  actor  I  have  seen 
at  the  Globe,  and  in  the  ale-houses.  I  forget  his 
name." 

"  Is  it  Marryott  ? "  asked  Barnet,  remembering 
what  he  had  learned  in  Clown. 

"Ay,  that's  it !  I  drew  him  many  a  pot  of  beer 
when  I  was  a  tapster." 


ROGER   BARNE'I    CONTINUES    TO   SMOKE.     359 

"Then  by  the  devil's  horns,"  quoth  Barnet,  ire- 
fully,  "  he  hath  played  his  last  part  when  he  hath 
played  upon  me,  with  his  false  beard  and  like 
devices  !  If,  indeed,  you  have  led  me  off,  Master 
Marryott,  and  Sir  Valentine  Fleetwood  hath  fled 
over  seas,  by  God,  it  shall  go  hard  but  you  die  in's 
place  for  aiding  a  traitor !  I  take  you  in  the  queen's 
name,  Sir  Player.  Nay,  question  not  my  right ;  I 
have  blank  warrants  for  emergent  use ;  your  name  is 
soon  writ  ;  and  back  to  London  you  shall  ride,  with 
your  feet  tied  'neath  the  horse's  belly !  Mistress, 
this  is  part  your  doing ;  for  you  told  me  'twas  Sir 
Valentine  passed  you  i'  the  road  that  night.  You 
have  had  all  your  labor  for  the  wrong  man,  and  given 
the  right  one  time  to  'scape  both  you  and  me ! " 

But  his  words  might  have  fallen  upon  the  ears  of 
a  statue.  Anne  had  realized  in  a  flash  all  that  words 
could  tell  her,  and  this  much  more  :  that  the  cap 
tured  man  loved  her,  and  was  a  prisoner  through  her 
use  of  his  love  ;  and  that,  even  though  she  had  had 
the  resolution  to  feign  illness,— 

Thought  failed  her,  and  she  stood  leaning  on  the 
shoulder  of  her  page,  pallor  and  inertia  betokening 
the  utter  consternation  of  her  heart. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

SPEECH    WITHOUT    WORDS. 
"  Her  eye  discourses  ;  I  will  answer  it."  —  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day  —  Tuesday, 
March  loth  —  there  rode  into  Skipton  from  the  north, 
and  took  lodging  for  the  night  at  the  principal  inn, 
a  party  of  horsemen,  commanded  by  a  stout,  hard- 
browed,  black-bearded  man,  and  conducting  a  pale, 
tired  young  gentleman  whose  hands  were  tied  behind 
him  and  whose  ankles  were  fastened  with  a  rope  that 
passed  beneath  the  body  of  his  led  horse. 

When  the  troop  had  come  to  a  halt,  and  accommo 
dations,  had  been  bespoken,  the  leader  caused  two 
of  his  men  to  release  the  prisoner's  legs,  but  not  his 
hands,  and  then  marched  with  him,  preceded  and 
followed  by  guards,  to  an  upper  room  overlooking 
the  stableyard.  Here  four  armed  men  were  left 
with  the  prisoner,  to  whom  presently  supper  was 
brought.  Though  without  weapons,  his  wrists  were 
still  kept  tied  ;  his  food  had  to  be  conveyed  to  his 
mouth  by  one  of  his  guards.  He  might  sleep  on  the 

360 


SPEECH  WITHOUT  WORDS.        361 

bed  when  he  chose ;  but  asleep  or  awake  he  must 
remain  thus  guarded  and  bound. 

Five  minutes  after  the  arrival  of  this  troop  at  the 
inn,  a  smaller  party  appeared  from  the  same  direc 
tion.  Its  chief  figure  was  a  weary-looking  young 
lady,  deeply  buried  in  her  thoughts,  and  attended 
by  a  youthful  page  whose  head  was  bandaged,  a  bold 
faced  old  fellow,  and  a  lean  and  sad-visaged  man  in 
sombre  garments.  This  company,  finding  the  first 
inn  now  full,  sought  and  obtained  lodging  at  a  smaller 
one,  not  far  away. 

On  the  journey  thither,  these  two  groups  of  riders 
had  been  more  than  once  in  sight  of  each  other. 
Both  Marryott  and  Barnet  had  observed  that  Cap 
tain  Bottle  and  the  Puritan  were  serving  Mistress 
Hazlehurst  as  escort,  —  a  circumstance  that  seemed 
to  the  pursuivant  quite  natural,  since  the  lady  was 
no  friend  of  Marryott's  and  the  two  men  were,  in 
Barnet's  belief,  Marryott's  betrayers.  Barnet  him 
self  had  offered  to  let  her  ride  under  his  protection 
on  the  southward  journey  ;  but  she  had  refused,  and 
had  watched  in  silence,  with  Kit  and  Anthony,  the 
departure  of  the  prisoner  from  Foxby  Hall.  What 
ever  arrangement  she  had  made  with  the  two  men 
must  have  been  made  after  that  departure. 

Hal  explained  matters  to  himself  by  the  supposi 
tion  that  Kit  Bottle  and  Anthony,  whom  she,  too, 
must  regard  as  his  betrayers,  had  offered  her  their 


362  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

escort,  that  they  might  with  less  suspicion  follow 
close  upon  the  heels  of  his  captors  toward  London. 
He  knew  that  she  was  ill  supplied  in  purse  for  the 
homeward  journey,  and  he  guessed  that  she  had 
obtained  of  Anthony  a  loan  of  money  to  pay  the 
escort  and  inn  charges.  In  this  guess,  he  was  right ; 
but  it  was  scarce  possible  that  he  should  have  di 
vined  what  other  understanding  had  passed  between 
the  lady  and  his  two  adherents. 

He  was  glad,  in  the  dull  way  in  which  thought  and 
feeling  now  worked  within  him,  that  she  had  found 
so  good  an  escort.  When  she  had  declined  Barnet's 
offer,  he  had  feared  she  might  unwittingly  expose 
herself  to  new  danger,  though  he  had  believed  that 
Kit  and  Anthony,  knowing  his  own  wishes,  would 
protect  her,  in  spite  of  herself,  to  some  gentleman's 
house  where  she  might  procure  both  money  and 
servants. 

As  for  the  robbers  who  had  shared  his  siege  at 
Foxby  Hall,  Hal  knew,  by  their  absence  from  Mis 
tress  Hazlehurst's  party,  that  they  had  been  left  to 
choose  their  own  ways.  The  money  he  had  given 
them  would  enable  them  to  transport  themselves 
to  distant  parts  of  the  kingdom  ere  Rumney  was 
likely  to  traverse  again  the  neighborhood  of  Foxby 
Hall. 

Hal  slept  lightly  but  calmly.  His  slumber  was 
but  half  slumber,  even  as  his  waking  state  was  a  kind 


SPEECH  WITHOUT  WORDS.        363 

of  lethargic  dream.  He  recked  not  of  past,  present, 
or  future. 

At  dawn  breakfast  was  brought  to  him  and  readily 
eaten.  So  indifferent  had  he  become,  so  little  feel 
ing  was  active  in  him,  so  little  emotion  was  there  to 
affect  his  physical  state,  that  not  even  his  appetite 
was  altered  ;  his  body  led  a  healthy,  normal  exist 
ence,  save  for  the  fatigue  from  which  it  was  already 
recovering,  but  his  mind  and  heart  languished  half 
inert. 

After  breakfast  the  southward  road  was  resumed, 
with  no  deviation  from  the  order  of  the  previous  day. 
Anne's  party  rode  out  from  the  other  inn  as  Barnet's 
was  passing.  Was  this  mere  accident,  thought  Hal, 
or  was  it  by  precaution  of  Kit  Bottle  ? 

The  way  was  choked  with  snow.  In  some  places 
this  had  drifted  so  as  to  bury  the  fences,  where  it 
happened  —  as  was  rare  —  that  the  road  was  flanked 
by  such  enclosures.  In  other  spots,  the  earth  was 
swept  bare.  The  drifting  still  continued,  for,  though 
the  day  was  clear,  another  high  wind  had  arisen.  It 
blew  the  fine,  biting  crystals  into  the  riders'  faces, 
reddened  their  cheeks  and  eyelids,  and  seemed  to  add 
to  the  discomfort  of  Roger  Barnet. 

For  the  sufferings  of  the  pursuivant,  due  to  the 
use  of  the  wounded  leg  when  it  demanded  rest,  were 
now  plainly  telling  upon  him.  His  face  was  haggard ; 
under  his  breath,  he  was  fretful ;  such  manifestations, 


364  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

on  the  part  of  a  man  so  obstinate  against  the  show 
of  pain,  meant  that  he  was  in  physical  agony. 

At  Halifax,  he  ordered  a  rest  for  dinner.  The 
day  being  very  cold,  Marryott  was  led  to  a  room  in 
the  inn's  topmost  story,  where  he  dined  with  four 
guards  precisely  as  he  had  supped  at  Skipton. 
Before  entering  the  town,  he  had  lost  sight  of 
Mistress  Hazlehurst's  party ;  indeed,  it  was  not 
often,  on  the  journey,  that  he  availed  himself  of 
some  bend  of  the  road  to  turn  his  head  and  look 
back. 

When  he  had  finished  his  dinner,  Marryott  let  his 
glance  stray  idly  through  the  window.  He  had  a 
view  of  a  side  lane  that  ran,  apparently,  from  a  street 
beneath  his  room.  The  lane  ended  at  its  junction 
with  another  street.  Up  and  down  that  other  street, 
so  as  to  cross  the  end  of  the  lane  at  brief  intervals,  a 
riderless  horse  was  being  led  by  a  boy  whose  head 
was  wrapped  around  with  handkerchiefs.  Was  not 
the  boy  Francis  ?  And  why  was  he  exercising  a 
saddled  horse  in  such  a  place  so  far  from  this  inn, 
not  perceptibly  near  any  other  ?  The  question  dwelt 
in  Hal's  mind  for  a  moment :  then  fled,  at  Barnet's 
summons  to  horse. 

Not  till  he  had  covered  several  miles  out  of  Hali 
fax  did  Marryott  catch  his  next  glimpse  of  Anne 
and  her  three  attendants.  They  were  then  at  a 
good  distance  behind ;  but  gradually  during  the 


SPEECH   WITHOUT   WORDS.  365 

afternoon  they  decreased  the  distance, — a  natural 
enough  thing  to  do,  for  the  proximity  of  Barnet's 
martial-looking  troop  was  a  protection.  That  even 
ing  both  parties  lodged  at  Barnesley.  The  state  of 
the  roads,  and  of  Barnet's  leg,  had  forbidden  faster 
progress.  It  was  not  quite  dark  when  Hal  was  led 
into  the  chamber  where  he  was  to  sup  and  sleep. 
He  sat  down  on  a  joint-stool  by  the  window. 

Ten  minutes  passed.  Awaiting  his  supper,  he  was 
still  looking  listlessly  out  of  the  window  at  the  dark 
ening  evening.  Was  not  that  Anthony  Underbill 
yonder,  leading  a  riderless  horse  to  and  fro  upon  the 
green  that  was  visible  through  a  gap  in  the  row  of 
houses  opposite  the  inn  ?  It  was  odd  that  he  should 
haply  be  repeating  in  Hal's  view  at  supper-time  the 
action  that  Francis  had  performed  in  Hal's  sight  at 
dinner-time.  The  arrival  of  pickled  herrings  and 
ale  drew  Marryott's  eyes  from  the  window,  and  his 
mind  from  the  spectacle. 

The  next  morning,  on  arising  to  depart,  Mar- 
ryott  by  chance  beheld,  this  time  with  a  touch  of 
wondering  amusement,  another  repetition  of  the 
same  performance,  with  the  single  difference  that 
now  the  leader  of  the  horse  was  Kit  Bottle. 

When  some  hours  of  the  forenoon  journey  had 
been  spent,  Marryott,  looking  back,  saw  with  a  little 
surprise  that  Anne's  party  was  close  behind  his  own. 
Barnet  rode  at  his  side,  leading  his  horse ;  half  of 


366  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

the  escort  rode  two  and  two  in  front,  the  other 
half  in  the  rear.  These  rear  horsemen  intervened 
between  Hal  and  Anne  ;  but  as  he  ascended  the  side 
of  a  hollow  he  could  look  over  the  heads  behind  him 
to  her  as  she  descended  the  farther  side. 

Her  glance  met  his  ;  and  in  it  was  a  kind  of  mes 
sage,  which  she  seemed  to  have  long  awaited  the 
moment  for  delivering.  With  all  possible  eloquence 
of  eyes  and  face,  she  appeared  to  express  apology,  a 
request  for  pardon,  a  wish  to  serve  him !  Ere  he 
could  assure  himself  by  keener  inspection  whether 
he  had  read  aright  the  look  that  had  thrilled  him  out 
of  his  lethargy,  he  had  reached  the  crest  of  the 
ascent,  and  the  men  behind  him  had  closed  his  view. 

Poignantly  alive  now  in  mind  and  heart,  he  tor 
mented  himself  for  several  miles  with  conjectures 
whether  her  expression  had  been  intentional  on  her 
part  or  correctly  translated  on  his.  This  he  could 
best  ascertain  by  sending  her,  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity,  a  look  in  reply. 

When  he  was  next  in  line  of  sight  with  her,  he 
glanced  back  his  answer.  It  consisted  merely  of  a 
faint  smile,  soft  and  kindly,  by  which  he  hoped  to  say 
that  he  understood,  forgave,  and  loved. 

To  his  unutterable  joy,  she  instantly  responded 
with  a  smile  that  was  the  echo  of  his  own. 

This  conversation,  carried  on  so  silently  and  at 
such  distance,  but  so  decisive  and  full  of  import, 


SPEECH   WITHOUT   WORDS.  $6? 

was  of  course  so  conducted  that  Marryott's  captors 
suspected  nothing  of  it.  A  certain  curiosity  as  to 
whether  his  supposed  betrayers  were  following  him 
toward  London  was  natural  on  the  part  of  one  in  his 
situation,  and  it  accounted,  in  Barnet's  mind,  for  his 
looking  back. 

At  Clown,  dining  in  the  very  ale-house  chamber 
whence  Mistress  Hazlehurst  had  looked  at  his  deten 
tion  by  the  constable's  men,  Marryott  saw,  some  way 
down  the  lane  from  which  the  coach  had  been  drawn, 
a  riderless  horse  led  back  and  forth  by  Francis.  It 
flashed  upon  him  at  last  that  the  continual  recur 
rence  of  this  scene  must  be  more  than  mere  coinci 
dence. 

In  the  afternoon,  Marryott  had  but  one  opportun 
ity  to  exchange  looks  with  Anne.  This  was  where 
the  road  turned  sharply  in  such  direction  that,  by 
glancing  sidewise  and  across  the  back  of  Barnet's 
horse,  he  could  see  her  through  a  sparse  copse  that 
filled  the  angle.  Her  expression  now  suggested 
alertness  and  craft,  as  if  for  his  imitation  ;  and  she 
pointed  with  her  forefinger  to  the  horse  ridden  by 
Francis  at  her  side.  The  trees  cut  off  his  view  ere 
the  gesture  was  complete ;  but  he  understood  ;  it 
meant,  "  You  will  find  a  horse  ready,  if  you  can 
break  from  your  guards  ! " 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE    LONDON    ROAD. 

"  How  many  miles  to  London  town  ? "  —  Old  Song. 

AND  now  Master  Marryott  was  himself  again,  with 
the  will  to  break  away  if  he  could,  and  the  eye 
for  the  opportunity  if  it  should  occur.  It  was  plain 
that  she  had  ceased  to  view  him  with  antagonism  or 
indifference.  And  her  interest  in  him  —  an  interest 
so  strong  as  to  overcome  or  exclude  resentment 
toward  him  as  the  agent  of  Sir  Valentine  Fleet- 
wood's  escape  from  her  as  well  as  from  the  govern 
ment —  surely  sprang  from  some  more  powerful 
feeling  than  mere  regret  for  a  man  placed  by  her  in 
a  peril  she  had  designed  for  another.  To  have  caused 
her  to  order  or  sanction  the  holding  of  the  horse  in 
readiness,  her  interest  must  have  fully  taken  up  her 
mind.  Perhaps  to  this  fact  was  due  her  evident  re- 
linquishment  of  revenge  upon  Sir  Valentine,  as  much 
as  to  that  knight's  present  inaccessibility,  and  to  the 
stupefying  blow  her  vengeful  impulse  had  received 
in  the  disclosure  that  her  far  and  toilsome  quest  in 

368 


THE    LONDON  ROAD.  369 

its  service  had  but   led  her  from  the  right  object  to 
the  wrong  one. 

Whence  had  this  interest  arisen  ?  Doubtless  from 
her  musing  on  the  love  he  had  shown  in  staying  to 
protect  her  that  night  at  Foxby  Hall ;  on  the  annoy- 
ances  and  delays  to  which  she  had  subjected  him 
during  his  long  flight,  and  on  his  uniform  gentleness 
to  her  in  his  necessary  severity  toward  her. 

Could  he  indeed  break  from  his  guards  and  escape, 
that  he  might  satisfy  himself  on  these  questions,  and 
profit  in  his  love  by  that  interest ! 

But  Roger  Barnet's  vigilance,  like  his  iron  grip  on 
Marryott's  bridle  when  they  rode,  and  on  Marryott's 
arm  when  they  alighted,  seemed  to  increase  with  his 
increasing  distress  of  body. 

This  night  they  ate  and  slept  at  Nottingham. 
Barnet  occupied  a  second  bed  in  Marryott's  cham 
ber.  More  than  once  Hal  was  awakened  from  sleep 
—  a  sleep  in  which  his  dreams  carried  out  the  wild 
est  plans  of  escape  —  by  the  pursuivant's  groans  of 
pain.  At  dawn  Roger's  face  was  that  of  a  man  who 
had  neither  slept  nor  known  a  moment's  ease.  It 
was  with  a  desperate  stiffening '  of  muscles  and 
clenching  of  teeth  that  he  forced  himself  to  rise 
for  the  continuance  of  his  journey. 

Marryott  had  taken  pains  to  view  out  the  where 
abouts  of  the  led  horse  the  previous  evening,  when, 
as  usual,  it  had  appeared  in  sight  of  his  window.  He 


37°  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

marvelled  not  that  his  friends  never  failed  to  find  a 
spot  on  which  his  gaze  might  alight.  Kit  Bottle,  as 
he  knew,  had  ways  of  learning,  from  inn  menials  of 
either  sex,  what  room  was  taken  for  the  prisoner. 
This  morning  the  horse  was  at  a  place  some  distance 
from  where  it  had  been  yesternight.  Bottle  was 
leading  it ;  and  the  picture  had  a  new  figure,  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse  a  little  farther  off.  This  second 
horse  had  a  rider,  —  Anne  Hazlehurst ! 

What  would  he  not  give  now  for  means  of  escape  ? 
But  there,  hemming  him  in,  were  his  four  silent, 
stalwart  guards  ;  and  beyond  them,  with  cold  eyes 
now  red-rimmed  from  a  restless  night  but  fixed  im 
placably  on  him,  was  the  equally  silent  Barnet. 

The  wind  had  blown  itself  to  other  regions  ;  the 
day  was  as  fair  as  it  was  serene ;  it  was  milder,  too, 
than  days  had  been  of  late.  But  Hal's  captors  made 
poor  travelling.  Barnet  had  to  halt  often,  as  he  could 
now  scarce  endure  the  pain  caused  by  the  movement 
of  his  horse.  He  stopped  for  dinner  when  he  had 
ridden  no  farther  than  to  Melton  Mowbray  and  when 
it  was  no  later  than  eleven  o'clock. 

Marryott  took  what  scant  comfort  of  mind  he 
could,  in  this  slowness  of  the  journey  toward  London. 
Yet  slow  as  it  was,  it  was  all  too  fast.  London  was 
but  little  more  than  a  hundred  miles  away,  now. 
Only  a  hundred  miles  of  opportunity  for  that  miracle 
of  accident,  or  ingenuity  and  skill,  by  which  he 


THE  LONDON  ROAD.  3/1 

might  save  himself  for  the  joys  awaiting  him  in 
Anne  Hazlehurst's  love !  Life  had  begun  to  taste 
ineffably  sweet.  The  world  was  marvellously  beau 
tiful  on  such  a  day.  But  when  he  faced  the  terrible 
likelihood  of  a  speedy  hurling  hence  to  "  that  undis 
covered  country,"  where  there  could  not  be  a  fairer 
sky  to  look  upon,  or  purer  air  to  breathe,  and  where 
there  was  no  Anne  Hazlehurst,  the  beauty  of  the 
day  mocked  him. 

And  the  sight  of  the  horse,  too,  mocked  him,  as 
it  passively  waited  to  bear  him  far  from  the  reclaim 
ing  pursuit  of  death  the  moment  he  might  slip  from 
death's  arms  closing  tighter  around  him.  His  heart 
cried  "  Avaunt,  death  !  I  am  not  for  thee  !  Love 
and  beauty  await  me ;  they,  and  this  glad  earth  even 
now  waking  to  joy  at  the  first  breath  of  spring! 
I  am  for  this  world,  with  its  music  and  its  wine,  its 
laughter  and  its  poetry,  its  green  fields  and  its  many- 
colored  cities,  its  pleasures  of  good-fellowship,  its 
smiles  of  the  woman  beloved !  Unhand  me,  death  ; 
go  your  ways,  black  monster  ;  I  am  life's  own  !  "  He 
had  moments  wherein  he  was  half  mad,  not  with 
the  fear  of  death,  but  with  the  love  of  life ;  yet  his 
madness  had  so  much  method  in  it  that  he  gave  no 
outward  sign  of  it,  lest  his  alertness  for  some  means 
of  escape  might  be  suspected. 

Back  in  the  saddle,  after  dinner,  to  decrease  by 
another  afternoon's  riding  those  hundred  miles  to 


372  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

London  town,  Marryott  observed  in  Barnet's  face 
the  fierce  resolution  which  a  man  gathers  for  a  last 
fight  against  physical  anguish.  So  these  two  rode 
side  by  side,  the  captor  concealing  tortures  of  the 
body,  the  prisoner  veiling  tortures  of  the  mind.  At 
two  o'clock  they  clattered  into  Oakham.  When  they 
arrived  before  the  gate  of  a  large  inn,  Roger  Barnet 
suddenly  called  a  halt,  and  said,  in  tones  whose 
gruffness  was  somewhat  broken  by  a  note  of  bodily 
suffering  : 

"  We'll  tarry  the  day  out  here,  and  start  fresh  on 
the  morrow.  The  foul  fiend  is  in  my  leg!  " 

He  thereupon  sent  Hudsdon  to  order  rooms  made 
ready,  so  that  the  prisoner  might,  as  usual,  be  con 
ducted  from  the  horse  to  his  chamber  without  stop 
page.  Barnet  did  not  yet  ride  into  the  inn  yard,  for 
he  noticed  a  crowd  and  a  bustle  therein,  and  pre 
ferred  not  to  enter  until  it  should  be  certain  he 
would  not  have  to  go  elsewhere  for  lodging.  Here, 
as  in  other  towns,  the  pursuivant  kept  his  men  close 
around  the  prisoner,  as  much  to  conceal  the  latter's 
bound  wrists  and  legs  from  lookers-on  as  for  any 
other  purpose.  Thus  few  people,  if  any,  observed 
that  here  was  a  prisoner,  and  so  no  crowd  collected. 

As  Hal  sat  his  horse,  awaiting  Hudsdon's  return, 
he  bethought  him  that  this  day  was  Friday,  March 
1 3th,  —  the  tenth  day  since  his  departure  from  Fleet- 
wood  house.  The  time  he  had  undertaken  to  obtain 


THE   LONDON  ROAD.  373 

for  Sir  Valentine  would  be  past  that  evening,  —  and 
Welwyn  was  still  seventy  miles  away ! 

This  geographical  fact,  connected  as  it  was  with 
the  certainty  that  he  had  more  than  accomplished 
his  adventure,  called  up  another  and  less  pleasing 
fact,  of  which  indeed  he  needed  little  reminder,  — 
the  fact  that  not  a  hundred  miles  now  remained  of 
the  road  to  London. 

His  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the  reappearance 
of  Hudsdon,  who  spoke  to  Barnet  in  whispers.  The 
party  then  rode  around  to  a  side  door  of  the  inn, 
doubtless  to  avoid  taking  the  prisoner  through  the 
crowd  in  the  great  yard.  The  hostess  had  already 
opened  this  door.  Barnet  and  four  men  alighted 
from  their  horses,  enabled  Hal  to  dismount,  and  led 
him,  at  the  heels  of  a  chamberlain,  through  passages 
and  up-stairs  to  a  room.  He  had  noticed,  as  he 
entered,  that  hostlers  had  already  come  from  the 
inn  gate  to  take  the  horses  to  stable  by  the  usual 
route. 

Hal's  first  glance,  on  entering  his  chamber,  was 
for  the  window.  To  his  dismay,  it  opened,  not  so 
as  to  give  a  view  of  street  or  of  places  exterior  to  the 
inn,  but  so  as  to  command  a  part  of  the  square  inn 
yard,  which  was  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  the 
inn  itself,  on  the  fourth  by  a  wall  and  gate.  What 
hid  a  portion  of  this  yard,  which  was  far  below,  was 
the  downward-sloping  roof  of  the  long  upper  gallery 


374  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

or  balcony  that  traversed  the  three  inner  sides  of  the 
house.  Situated  as  he  now  was,  he  could  have  no 
sight  of  the  waiting  horse. 

"What  do  you  see  to  make  you  stare  so?"  asked 
the  watchful  Barnet. 

"Naught  but  the  crowd  in  the  inn  yard,"  replied 
Hal,  with  barely  the  heart  to  dissemble.  "  'Tis  more 
than  common,  methinks." 

"  Yes.  Heard  you  not  what  Hudsdon  said  ?  There 
is  to  be  a  play  in  the  yard ;  the  town  will  not  give 
the  guildhall  for  plays  on  a  Friday  in  Lent."  3° 

"  A  play  ?     Who  are  the  players  ?  " 

"  The    lord    chamberlain's    men     that     are    now 
travelling.     They  are  wont  to  play  at  the  Globe,  — 
why,  that  is  where  you  played,  is't  not  so  ? " 

But  Hal  heeded  not  the  question.  The  lord 
chamberlain's  men !  Shakespeare,  Sly,  his  friends, 
who  a  moment  since  had  seemed  worlds  and  ages 
away  ! 

And,  that  very  instant,  a  familiar  voice  rang  out 
above  the  noise  of  the  crowd  below. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

HOW  A  NEW  INCIDENT  WAS  ADDED  TO  AN  OLD  PLAY. 

"  If  he  come  not,  then  the  play  is  marred."  —  A  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream. 

THE  cause  of  Marryott's  not  having  seen  the 
person  whose  voice  he  now  heard,  or  the  little  board 
platform  raised  to  serve  as  a  stage,  was  that  this 
platform  was  directly  below  his  window,  and  hence 
hidden  by  the  balconies  with  which  the  lower  stories, 
unlike  that  in  which  he  was,  were  provided. 

The  crowding  of  guards  around  Marryott,  the 
distraction  Barnet  owed  to  his  pain,  had  deterred 
the  two  from  noticing,  when  outside  the  gate,  the 
playbills  attached  to  the  posts.  The  play  announced 
was  "The  Battle  of  Alcazar,"  by  Mr.  George  Peele. 
There  was  still  a  special  favor  for  anti-Spanish  plays. 
Fresh  in  memory  was  that  English  victory  over 
Spain  whence  arose  the  impulse  of  expansion  des 
tined,  after  three  centuries  of  glory,  to  repeat  itself 
in  a  new  Anglo-Saxondom  from  a  victory  over  the 
same  race,  when  the  guns  of  Dewey  and  Sampson 
should  echo  back  in  multiplied  volume  the  roar  of 

375 


376  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Drake's  and  Howard's.  History  has  nowhere  re 
peated  itself  more  picturesquely. 

But  after  the  play  had  been  selected  and  an 
nounced,  there  had  arrived  at  the  inn,  with  a  small 
regiment  of  servants,  and  a  good  part  of  his  house 
hold  furniture  for  his  better  accommodation,  young 
Lord  Tyrrington  and  his  newly  wedded  lady.  A 
squire  in  my  lord's  service  had  preceded  him  and 
bespoken  the  entire  second  story  of  one  of  the  wings. 
My  lady,  on  taking  up  her  quarters,  had  learned 
with  delight  that  London  actors  were  to  give  a  play 
in  the  yard.  She  had  expressed  to  her  husband,  on 
whom  she  still  looked  with  the  soft  eyes  of  a  bride 
of  a  fortnight,  the  wish  that  the  piece  might  be  a 
love-play.  Her  spouse,  as  yet  deeply  enraptured 
with  her  and  with  love,  had  sent  straightways  for 
the  master  of  the  players.  The  result  of  the  in 
terview  was  the  oral  announcement  which  Marryott 
now  heard  from  lips  whose  facility  was  well  known 
to  him. 

Prefaced  by  delicately  hinted  compliments  to  the 
noble  couple,  and  by  gross  open  flattery  of  the  worthy, 
excellent,  and  good  people  of  Oakham,  the  announce 
ment  was  to  the  effect  that,  instead  of  performing 
"  The  Battle  of  Alcazar,"  the  lord  chamberlain's 
servants  would  enact  Master  William  Shakespeare's 
most  admired  and  lamentable  tragedy  of  the  love  of 
"Romeo  and  Juliet."  Whereupon  there  was  loud 


A    NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.        377 

and  prolonged  applause,  and  the  musicians,  on  the 
inn-balcony  above  the  rear  of  the  stage,  struck  up  a 
tune  for  the  beguilement  of  the  crowd  until  the  actors 
should  be  ready  to  begin. 

"  'Twas  Will  Sly,"  said  Marryott,  half  to  himself. 

"  You  know  him,  I  ween,"  said  Roger  Barnet, 
who  had  listened  to  the  announcement  with  close 
attention,  and  who  seemed  to  have  softened  a  little 
under  the  stress  of  some  concealed  inclination. 

"  Marry,  the  days  and  nights  we  have  tossed  the 
pot  together  !  "  replied  Hal. 

"  I  ween  you  have  been  gossip  and  comrade  to  all 
of  them,"  went  on  Roger,  with  guarded  interest. 
"You  know  Burbage,  and  Shakespeare,  and  the 
rest  ? " 

"  I  may  say  I  know  Burbage  and  the  rest,  and  I 
have  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  Master  Shake 
speare.  I  am  acquaint  with  his  outer  life,  which  is, 
perforce,  much  like  other  men's,  and  with  his  talk, 
which  varies  so  gently  between  sincerity  and  subtle 
irony,  that  one  can  never  be  sure ;  but  to  know  the 
man  himself  were  to  know  a  world." 

"I  like  his  plays  better  than  all  others,"  said 
Roger.  "  And  of  all  his  plays,  this  '  Romeo  and 
Juliet '  best.  I  have  read  Arthur  Brooke's  poem  of 
the  tale,  and  William  Paynter's  story  in  'The  Palace 
of  Pleasure ; '  but  they  are  pale  dullness  to  this 
tragedy.  It  hath  rare  love-making  in  it !  " 


378  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

The  steeliness  of  Barnet's  eye  had  melted  to  a 
soft  lustre ;  a  warmth  had  come  over  his  face. 
Marryott  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  That  this 
hard  rascal,  this  complacent  spy  and  implacable  man- 
hunter,  —  even  in  that  day  when  rough  soldiers  were 
greedy  for  wit  and  beauty  and  fine  thought,  —  should 
have  read  poems  and  novels,  and  should  possess  a 
taste  for  rare  love-making,  was  indeed  one  of  those 
marvels  which  prove  how  many-sided  (not  inconsist 
ent)  is  the  individual  human. 

"  If  we  could  hear  it  better  than  we're  like  to 
do,"  suggested  Marryott,  "'twould  a  little  distract 
us  from  our  ills  of  mind  and  body,  —  for  I  take  it 
from  your  twitchings  that  you  suffer  some." 

The  pursuivant  was  careful  against  showing  how 
welcome  this  suggestion  was  ;  for  he  had  felt  that  it 
would  better  emanate  from  the  prisoner,  in  whom  a 
desire  to  see  the  play  was  quite  proper,  than  from 
an  officer  who  ought  to  hold  in  supreme  indifference 
all  but  duty. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  wot  of  no  reason  why  you 
may  not  be  allowed  to  see  this  play,  under  guard. 
Dawkins,  go  to  the  landlady  and  require  for  me  a 
room  in  one  of  yonder  wings,  well  toward  the  front 
of  the  yard,  that  we  may  see  the  stage  from  it.  God 
forbid  I  should  deprive  a  doomed  man  of  two  hours' 
forgetfulness  !  " 

When,  some  minutes  later,  the  change  of  rooms 


A    NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.        379 

had  been  effected,  Marryott  found  himself  looking 
down  from  a  gabled  window,  which,  being  over  one 
side  of  the  yard,  gave  a  complete  oblique  view  of 
the  stage  at  the  yard's  rear.  He  sat  on  a  low  stool, 
his  hands  pinioned  behind  him,  Roger  Barnet  at  his 
side.  Four  armed  men  stood  close  around,  leaning 
forward  for  all  possible  view  over  the  heads  of  the 
two. 

The  musicians,  now  visible  in  the  gallery  over  the 
back  of  the  stage,  were  still  playing.  The  second 
story  balcony  across  the  yard  from  Hal's  window 
was  occupied  by  the  lord  and  lady  and  their  numer 
ous  attendants,  a  group  whose  rich  attire  presented 
all  hues,  and  every  kind,  of  silk,  velvet,  and  costly 
cloth.  My  lady,  close  to  the  railing,  and  leaning  ex 
pectantly  over  it,  wore  on  her  head  a  caul  of  golden 
thread ;  and  one  of  her  maids  held  a  peaked  Minever 
cap  ready  to  be  donned  in  case  of  cold.  My  lord, 
sitting  at  her  side,  bent  so  near  that  the  silk  rose  at 
the  end  of  his  love-lock  often  brushed  the  cheek  of 
her  in  whose  honor  it  was  still  worn,  despite  their 
being  now  married.  His  lordship  might  have  taken 
a  seat  upon  the  stage,  but  he  preferred  to  remain 
where  he  could  mark  the  significant  love  speeches  to 
his  lady's  attention  by  gentle  pressure  of  his  hand 
on  hers. 

Three  or  four  rustic  gallants  sat  on  the  stage,  and 
talked  ostentatiously,  with  a  great  deal  of  very  know- 


380  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

ing  laughter,  each  one  keeping  a  side  glance  upon 
the  noble  lady  in  the  balcony,  to  see  what  impression 
he  was  making ;  for  each  was  convinced  that  her 
softly  eager  looks  toward  the  stage  were  cast  in 
admiration  of  himself. 

The  stage  was  of  rough  boards  upon  an  underwork 
of  upright  barrels  and  trestles.  At  its  back  there 
hung  from  the  balcony  a  curtain  behind  which  a  few 
makeshift  steps  descended  to  the  door  of  an  inn 
parlor  now  used  by  the  actors  as  a  tiring-room.  The 
balcony  thereabove  was  not  devoted  exclusively  to 
the  musicians  ;  like  all  the  other  galleries  around  the 
yard,  and  to  which  chambers  of  the  inn  opened,  this 
one  held  crowds  of  spectators,  —  inn  guests  and  town's 
people.  But  of  this  one,  that  part  immediately  over 
the  stage  had,  since  the  change  of  play,  been  cleared 
of  people,  and  now  remained  so,  with  poles  placed  on 
either  side  as  barriers.  This  part  was  reserved  as 
Juliet's  balcony ;  an  inn  chamber  gave  access  to  it 
from  the  rear.  The  height  of  the  stage  was  such, 
that  the  floor  of  the  balcony  would  be  level  with 
Romeo's  eyes ;  but  that  mattered  nothing  to  the 
imagination  of  an  Elizabethan  audience. 

Even  the  steps  leading  to  the  balconies  were 
crowded ;  the  yard  itself,  paved  with  cobble  stones, 
was  more  densely  so,  and  with  rougher  and  noisier 
people.  Here  were  the  lowest  classes  represented, 
but  not  those  alone ;  here  was  a  rawer  wit  than 


A    NEW  INCIDENT  TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.       381 

among  the  groundlings  of  the  Globe  Theatre ;  here 
was  a  smaller  measure  of  acuteness  than  there,  and 
here  was  a  loutishness  that  was  there  absent. 

The  inn  gates  were  now  closed,  but  for  a  narrow 
opening,  where  stood  two  of  the  players'  men  to 
receive  the  money  of  what  spectators  might  yet 
arrive. 

The  hour  when  the  play  ought  to  have  begun  had 
passed.  But  the  crowd  was  the  more  tolerant  of  a 
burden  upon  its  patience,  for  the  fact  that  "  Romeo 
and  Juliet "  had  been  substituted  for  the  other  play. 
Shakespeare's  love-tragedy,  which  at  first  production 
had  made  the  greatest  success  in  the  brief  history  of 
English  drama,  was  the  most  popular  play  of  its 
time ;  and  to  a  county  town  of  the  insignificance  of 
Oakham,  it  was  still  a  novelty,  bright  with  the  lustre 
of  its  London  triumph. 

But  at  length  the  pleasure  of  anticipation  lost 
power  to  sweeten  the  delay  of  realization.  The 
crowd  murmured.  The  musicians,  who  had  fallen  to 
playing  "  I  am  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,"  for  there  being 
nothing  else  left  unplayed,  became  the  targets  of 
derisive  yells  ;  the  unseen  players,  behind  the  cur 
tain,  were  called  upon  to  hasten.  My  lady  had 
changed  her  position  several  times,  and  my  lord  was 
beginning  to  wonder  why  the  devil  — 

And  then  the  curtain  was  pushed  a  little  aside,  and 
Master  Sly  stepped  forth  again,  now  dressed  for  the 


382  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

part  he  was  on  this  occasion  to  enact,  —  that  of 
Mercutio.  The  crowd  gave  a  shout  of  welcome,  the 
musicians  came  to  an  abrupt  but  grateful  stop. 
"  The  prologue,"  remarked  several  of  the  knowing, 
and  then  indignantly  bade  others  hush,  who  were 
making  the  same  remark. 

But  Master  Sly's  air  was  not  suggestive  of  an 
ordinary  prologue.  It  was  hesitating,  embarrassed,  a 
little  dubious  of  consequences.  He  began,  rather  to 
my  lord  than  to  the  audience  as  a  whole,  a  halting, 
bungling  speech,  of  which  the  purport  was  that,  by 
reason  of  the  sudden  illness  of  an  actor  who  played 
a  part  necessary  to  the  movement  of  the  tragedy, 
and  as  no  unoccupied  player  in  the  company 
knew  the  part,  either  "  Romeo  and  Juliet  "  must  be 
for  the  occasion  abandoned,  or  its  performance 
marred  by  the  reading  of  the  part,  "  which  marring 
must  needs  be  the  greater,"  said  Mr.  Sly,  "  for  that 
it  is  a  part  of  exceeding  activity,  and  hath  some 
furious  fighting  with  the  rapier." 

Here  was  a  damper,  whose  potent  effect  became 
at  once  manifest  in  blank  looks  on  faces  noble  and 
faces  common.  My  lord  and  his  lady  were  as  much 
disappointed  as  the  rudest  artisan  or  the  pertest 
grammar-school  truant.  The  assemblage  was  yet 
in  that  chilled  silence  which  precedes  murmurs  of 
displeasure,  and  Mr.  Sly  was  drawing  breath  to  sub 
mit  the  alternative  of  another  play  or  the  marred 


A    NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.       383 

performance,  when  from  a  gable  window  high  above 
all  galleries  a  voice  rang  out  : 

"  Go  to,  Will  Sly !  I'll  wager  'tis  the  part  of 
Tybalt  ;  and  that  Gil  Crowe's  illness  comes  of  the 
same  old  cause  !  " 

Master  Sly  stared  aloft  at  the  distant  speaker.  So 
did  every  auditor  to  whom  the  window  was  visible ; 
and  those  in  the  balconies  under  it  leaned  over  the 
railings  and  twisted  their  necks  to  look  upward. 

"  Why,  —  'tis  thee,  Harry  Marryott,  —  i'  the  name 
of  God !  "  cried  Sly,  after  a  moment  of  blinking,  — 
for  Hal's   gable  was  sun-bathed,  and  blue   sky  was 
above  it.     "  What  dost  here,  Hal  ?     What  surprise 
is  this  you  give  us  ?  " 

"No  matter!"  answered  Hal.  "I  said  truly,  did 
I  not  ? " 

"  Surely  thou  didst,  and  a  mur —  !  Why,  boy, 
thou  canst  play  Tybalt !  You  studied  it  in  London ! " 

"  And  played  it  once,  when  Master  Crowe  was  — 
ill!" 

"Why,  here's  good  fortune!  My  lord,  'tis  one  of 
our  actors,  who  hath  been  a  time  absent  from  us. 
You  will  enjoy  to  see  him  in  the  fighting.  Haste 
thee  down,  Master  Marryott !  " 

A  clapping  of  hands  behind  the  entrance-curtain 
told  Hal  that  the  other  players  had  heard,  and  that 
they  welcomed ;  some,  indeed,  were  peeping  out 
from  the  edges  of  the  curtain. 


384  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Lord  Tyrrington  looked  across  the  yard,  and  up 
to  the  gable  window,  and  called  out,  "  Well  met, 
sir !  "  with  a  kindly  face ;  and  his  lady,  delighted  at 
the  turn  of  affairs,  smiled  sweetly.  Whereat  the 
crowd  cheered  lustily,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  Hal 
with  approval  and  pleasure. 

"Alas!"  cried  Hal.  "I  may  not  stir  from  here. 
I  am  a  prisoner  to  this  officer  of  the  queen." 

The  smiles  slowly  faded  from  the  countless  faces 
below.  Roger  Barnet,  who  had  been  taken  by  sur 
prise  at  Hal's  first  salutation  to  Sly,  and  whom  the 
swift  ensuing  colloquy  had  caught  at  a  loss,  frowned, 
and  wished  he  had  interfered  earlier. 

"  Nay,"  called  Sly,  "it  can  be  for  no  grave  offence. 
The  —  " 

"  'Tis  a  charge  of  aiding  treason,"  replied  Hal,  to 
cut  matters  short. 

Sly  stood  a  little  appalled.  A  deeper  silence  and 
a  new  interest  took  possession  of  the  gazing 
crowd. 

"Why,  even  so,"  said  Sly,  at  last,  "the  officer 
may — 

The  officer  now  thought  it  time  to  speak  for 
himself.  "  My  prisoner  is  my  prisoner,"  he  said, 
in  a  somewhat  surly  and  defiant  tone,  "taken  in 
the  queen's  name,  with  proper  warrant ;  and  in  the 
queen's  name  I  hold  him  here  in  close  guard." 

Will  Sly,  after  a  perplexed  look  at  the  pursuivant 


A   NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.       385 

by  Hal's  side,  turned  his  eyes  in  a  tentative,  ques 
tioning  way  to  the  young  lord.  The  crowd  followed 
his  glance.  My  lord  felt  the  pressure  of  the  general 
wish  upon  him.  His  lady  whispered  something  to 
him,  in  a  kind  of  pouting,  appealing  way,  with  a  dis 
approving  side  glance  at  Roger  Barnet.  My  lady 
herself  was  only  a  knight's  daughter.  To  her,  a  lord 
was  a  person  of  unlimited  influence.  When  a  wife 
imagines  that  her  husband  is  all-powerful,  he  does 
not  like  to  disabuse  her  mind.  When  he  is  deeply 
in  love  with  her,  arid  she  asks  him  for  a  pleasure 
which  he  has  himself  offered,  he  will  go  far  to 
obtain  it.  Moreover,  here  was  a  multitude  looking 
to  him,  the  great  Lord  Tyrrington,  as  to  its 
champion  against  a  vile,  sport-spoiling  hound  of 
the  government. 

"  How  now,  officer  ?  "  cried  my  lord,  in  a  tone  of 
lofty  rebuke.  "The  queen's  name  —  God  save  her 
gracious  Majesty  !  —  comes  as  loyally,  methinks, 
from  lips  that  do  not  make  it  a  common  byword 
of  their  trade.  Warrant,  say  you  ?  Your  warrant, 
sirrah,  requires  not  that  you  guard  her  Majesty's 
prisoner  rather  in  one  part  of  this  inn  than  in  an 
other  part.  Let  him  be  guarded  upon  yonder  stage. 
'Tis  as  safe  a  place,  with  proper  watching,  as  the 
chamber  you  are  in." 

"  My  lord  -  "  doggedly  began  Barnet,  who  had 
noted  Sly's  form  of  address.  But  ere  he  could 


386  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

proceed,  there  arose  from  the  yard,  and  was  taken 
up  by  the  galleries,  a  clamor  so  mandatory,  so 
threatening  to  a  possible  thwarter  of  the  general 
will,  that  the  pursuivant,  who  in  his  day  had  seen 
a  mob  or  two  at  work,  became  passive.  Moreover, 
he  had  been  as  cast  down  as  any  one  at  the  prospect 
of  his  favorite  play's  being  supplanted  or  spoiled ; 
and  deep  within  him  was  a  keen  curiosity  to  see  his 
prisoner  act  on  the  stage.  Standing  at  the  window, 
therefore,  Roger  made  a  curt  gesture  of  yielding  to 
the  unanimous  will. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  when  the  cheers  of  satisfaction 
had  hushed,  "  sith  it  be  your  desire,  and  haply  the 
pleasure  of  my  lady,  and  the  wish  of  these  good 
people,  I  no  more  say  nay.  Your  lordship  will  of 
a  surety  grant  me,  and  require  of  these  players, 
that  I  may  dispose  guards  to  my  own  liking,  and 
for  the  queen's  service,  during  the  time  of  my 
prisoner's  use  in  the  play." 

My  lord  was  quick  to  approve  of  this  condition. 
" Your  prisoner,  mayhap,"  he  added,  "will  give  his 
word  not  to  attempt  escape." 

"  Ay,  my  lord,"  cried  Hal,  at  once,  "  if  this  officer 
rely  on  that  word  alone,  and  dispense  with  guards 
about  me." 

Marry ott  knew,  of  course,  and  Barnet  promptly 
affirmed  by  word,  that  the  latter  would  prefer  to 
rely  on  his  guards.  Hal  showed  no  offence  at  this ; 


A   NEW  INCIDENT  TO  AN  OLD   PLAY.       387 

had  he  thought  his  word  would  be  accepted  he  would 
not  have  offered  it. 

"Then,"  said  he,  when  Barnet  had  expressed 
himself,  "  I  will  not  give  my  word." 

The  pursuivant  was  content.  He  attributed  Hal's 
attitude  to  a  mere  idle  punctilio  which  would  not 
accept  moral  bonds  without  a  reciprocal  withdrawal 
of  physical  ones,  even  though  freedom  from  moral 
bonds  was  useless.  Barnet  was  accustomed,  in  his 
observations  of  gentlemen,  to  such  bootless  niceties 
in  matters  of  honor. 

The  musicians  were  put  to  it  for  another  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  Barnet  conducted  the  prisoner 
down-stairs  and  to  the  tiring-room.  He  placed  a 
guard  at  each  entrance  to  that  room,  stationed 
others  in  the  yard  so  that  one  breasted  each  side 
of  the  small  stage,  set  two  upon  the  steps  between 
stage  and  tiring-room,  and  established  himself  on 
a  three-legged  stool  on  the  stage.  He  seemed  to 
have  conveniently  forgotten  that  Tybalt,  even  during 
the  acts  wherein  he  appears,  is  less  time  on  the  stage 
than  off.  He  had  put  the  faithful  Hudsdon,  how 
ever,  at  the  door  from  the  tiring-room  to  the  steps 
behind  the  stage.  Indeed,  Hal's  freedom  was  little 
more  than  it  had  been  in  the  chamber,  save  that, 
Tybalt  being  a  swordsman's  part,  his  hands  were 
now  unbound. 

Barnet  had  assured  himself  that  the  rapiers  used 


388  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

by  the  actors  were  blunted  so  as  not  to  pierce.  He 
knew,  too,  that  he  had  won  the  crowd  by  his  conces 
sion  to  their  wish,  and  that  he  should  have  all  the 
spectators,  including  the  lord's  people  and  the  inn- 
folk,  as  active  barriers  against  any  dash  the  prisoner 
might  rashly  venture  for  liberty. 

Hal's  friends  had  crowded  around  him  in  the 
tiring-room,  which  was  lighted  with  candles  against 
the  gloom  caused  by  the  curtain  at  the  back  of  the 
stage.  Even  Burbage  had  pressed  his  hand,  and 
uttered  a  hope  that  there  might  be  nothing  in  this 
treason  matter.  "  Fortune  send  thee  safe  out  of  it, 
whatever  it  be!"  was  Master  Shakespeare's  wish. 
"  If  thou  earnest  to  grief,  Hal,"  said  the  Juliet,  the 
same  pert  stripling  that  had  played  Ophelia  eleven 
days  before,  "  I  should  weep  like  a  real  girl !  "  Gil 
Crowe  alone  had  nothing  to  say,  for  he  was  stretched 
half  clad,  in  the  corner  where  he  had  fallen,  in  the 
deepest  drunken  slumber. 

Master  Shakespeare  wore  the  white  beard  and 
religious  cowl  of  the  Friar  ;  a  habit  that  had  wak 
ened  in  Hal's  mind  a  thought  to  be  quenched  the 
next  moment  by  Barnet's  injunction  to  the  guards  of 
the  tiring-room  : 

"  And  lose  not  sight  of  him  an  instant  while  he  is 
here,  lest  during  an  eye-wink  he  slip  into  some 
player's  disguise  of  face  and  body,  and  pass  one  of 
you  unknown." 


A    NKIV  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.        389 

His  comrades,  especially  Master  Shakespeare  and 
Will  Sly,  would  have  inquired  more  closely  into  the 
circumstances  of  Hal's  detention,  but  the  young  man 
was  so  pleasantly  exhilarated  by  the  reunion  with  his 
friends,  so  carried  out  of  himself  at  the  prospect  of 
playing  this  part,  that  he  put  direful  matters  aside 
as  not  to  be  talked  of.  With  his  dulled  rapier  in 
hand,  and  without  having  to  change  costume,  he 
stood  surrounded  by  the  players,  at  the  tiring-room 
door,  waiting  to  go  on  the  stage. 

The  music  ceased  again  ;  the  speaker  of  the  pro 
logue  stepped  out,  and,  while  the  audience  came 
gradually  to  a  hush,  delivered  his  lines  from  the 
centre  of  the  platform.  A  boy  fastened  to  the 
curtain  at  the  back  a  scroll  reading,  "  A  Street 
in  Verona."  The  two  Capulet  serving-men  came  on, 
and  their  rude  double-meanings  made  the  crowd  guf 
faw  ;  then  the  two  Montague  men,  then  Benvolio, 
then  Tybalt  precipitating  the  brawl,  then  the  crowd 
of  adherents  of  both  houses ;  and  the  ensuing  fray, 
unduly  confined  by  the  smallness  of  the  platform, 
came  near  involving  Roger  Barnet  and  the  gallants 
sitting  at  the  sides. 

Noting  more  heedfully  how  dense  was  the  crowd 
that  pressed  from  the  yard's  farthest  boundaries  to 
the  stage,  and  recognizing  the  guards  about  the  latter, 
Hal  had  a  sickening  feeling  of  being  mured  around 
with  a  wall  no  less  impassable  for  that  it  was  human. 


390  A    GENTLEMAN  PL  A  YE K. 

His  mind  reverted  to  the  last  time  he  had  acted  on 
a  stage ;  to  the  face  he  had  seen  then.  Where  was 
she  at  this  moment  ?  Was  the  horse  waiting  ?  Un 
manned  for  an  instant,  he  felt  his  eyes  moisten. 

When  he  made  exit,  after  the  Prince  had  quelled 
the  tumult,  he  stood  silent  in  the  dark  tiring-room, 
sad  at  heart. 

Meanwhile,  Roger  Barnet  and  the  audience  were 
enjoying  the  performance.  The  pursuivant,  nearer 
to  the  great  Burbage  than  he  had  ever  before  been 
during  a  play,  drank  in  Romeo's  every  word.  In  due 
time,  the  stage  being  for  a  moment  vacant,  a  boy 
supplanted  the  first  card  with  one  reading,  "  A 
Room  in  Capulet's  House."  The  scene  of  the  Nurse 
with  Juliet  and  her  mother  drew  some  very  conscious 
blushes  from  my  lady  in  the  gallery,  the  too  reminis 
cent  Nurse's  part  losing  nothing  of  mellowness  from 
its  being  played  by  a  portly  man.  The  street  card 
reappeared,  and  brought  on  Mercutio  to  deepen  the 
audience's  entrancement.  Another  substitution  in 
troduced  the  masquerade,  during  which  the  Tybalt, 
covered  with  an  orange-tawny  cloak  and  wearing  a 
black  mask,  was  held  in  particular  note  by  Barnet, 
Hudsdon  having  followed  him  to  the  stage  and  pointed 
him  out  in  his  visored  appearance. 

During  the  second  act,  with  its  balcony  scene,  its 
wisdom  so  impressively  spoken  by  Master  Shakes 
peare  in  the  Friar's  part,  its  wit  contest  between 


A   NEW  INCIDENT    TO   AN  OLD  PLAY.       391 

Romeo  and  Mercutio,  Roger  Barnet  was  in  the 
seventh  heaven.  Throughout  this  act,  Hal,  seated 
listlessly  in  the  tiring-room,  was  under  the  eyes  of 
Hudsdon  and  other  guards.  The  first  scene  of  the 
third  act,  heralded  by  the  useful  street  scroll, 
brought  his  great  and  last  great  occasion. 

"  It  may  be  my  last  stage-playing  in  this  world," 
he  thought,  and  resolved  it  should  be  worthy  the 
remembrance  of  his  comrades. 

" '  By  my  heel,  I  care  not,'  "  quoth  Sly  as  Mer 
cutio,  and  Tybalt,  taking  the  cue,  strode  out  with 
his  followers,  to  force  the  deadly  quarrel. 

The  brief  exchange  of  defiance  with  Mercutio,  the 
vain  attempt  of  peacemaking  Benvolio  to  lead  the 
foes  from  public  gaze,  made  keen  the  audience's 
expectation.  Romeo  entered ;  refused  to  be  drawn 
by  Tybalt's  fierce  words  into  fight  ;  tried  to  placate 
the  other's  hot  anger.  Mercutio  invited  the  quarrel 
to  himself,  drew  rapier,  and  belabored  Tybalt  with 
wit.  Tybalt,  with  a  ready  "  I  am  for  you,"  flashed 
out  his  blade  in  turn.  There  was  fine  clashing  of 
steel,  excellent  fencing.  Romeo  rushed  in  to  stop 
the  duel,  calling  on  Benvolio  to  beat  down  the 
weapons.  Is  it  wonder  that  the  audience  was 
a-quiver  with  interest,  under  complete  illusion  ?  For 
here  was  a  truly  fiery  Tybalt ;  here  was  Mercutio, 
the  most  fascinating  character  in  Shakespeare  ;  here 
as  Romeo  was  Burbage  himself,  accounted  the 


392  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

greatest  actor  in  the  world.  Is  it  wonder  that 
Roger  Barnet,  sitting  not  a  man's  length  away, 
hung  breathlessly,  and  with  wide  eyes,  upon  the 
scene  ? 

"  Hold,  Tybalt !  good  Mercutio  !  "  cried  Romeo. 

But  Mercutio  had  received  his  thrust,  and  Tybalt 
turned  to  flee  with  his  followers.  Barnet  heard  him 
cry  out  something  as  he  ran  ;  got  an  impression  of 
legs  disappearing  behind  the  rear  curtain  ;  and,  with 
the  greater  part  of  the  audience,  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
group  whence  the  youth  had  fled. 

For  Mercutio  was  panting  in  Romeo's  arms  ;  de 
claring  himself  hurt,  and  calling  feebly  a  plague  on 
both  the  houses  ;  replying  to  Romeo's  encouraging 
words  with  :  "  No,  'tis  not  so  deep  as  a  well,  nor  so 
wide  as  a  church-door  ;  but  'tis  enough,  'twill  serve : 
ask  for  me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  find  me  a  grave 
man.  I  am  peppered,  I  warrant,  for  this  world.  A 
plague  o'  both  your  houses  !  "  And  so  till  Benvolio 
led  him  off  gasping  with  his  dying  breath,  "  Your 
houses !  " 

And  now  it  was  Romeo's  task  to  hold  the  multi 
tude's  illusion  with  deploring  speeches  ;  and  to  work 
up  anew  its  breathless  sympathy,  at  the  news  of 
Mercutio' s  death  and  that  the  furious  Tybalt  was 
coming  back  again. 

"  '  Alive,  in  triumph  !  and  Mercutio  slain  ! '  "  cried 
Burbage. 


A    NEW  INCIDENT  TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.       393 

"  '  Away  to  heaven,  respective  lenity. 

And  fire-eyed  fury  be  my  conduct  now.' " 

And  Romeo,  trembling  with  the  emotion  of  the 
situation,  stood  with  sword  ready  to  receive  the  slayer 
of  his  friend,  lips  ready  to  begin,  "Now,  Tybalt, 
take  the  villain  back  again  — 

The  audience  stood  in  a  suspense  not  less  than 
Romeo's,  every  gaze  intent  upon  the  place  where 
Tybalt  should  come  forth. 

But  from  that  place,  no  one  appeared. 

Why  did  Tybalt  delay  ?  What  was  the  mat 
ter  ? 

It  was  an  embarrassing  moment  for  Mr.  Burbage. 
He  whispered  something  to  the  Benvolio,  who  there 
upon  went  to  the  curtain  at  the  rear  and  pushed  it 
aside.  He  disclosed  a  number  of  those  actors  known 
as  servitors,  waiting  to  come  on  as  citizens,  and 
behind  these  the  Prince  with  Montague  and  Capulet 
and  their  ladies. 

"Where's  Marryott  ? "  called  Benvolio  to  these. 
"  'Tis  his  cue.  The  stage  waits  for  Tybalt." 

Those  about  the  doorway  looked  into  the  tiring- 
room.  "  He  is  not  here,"  replied  several. 

"  He  is  not  come  from  the  stage  yet,"  said  Huds- 
don.  "  I  have  kept  my  eye  for  him." 

"Why,"  said  Benvolio  to  the  fellows  who  had 
played  Tybalt's  followers,  "came  he  not  off  with 
you  ? " 


394  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  I  remember  not,"  said  one.  "  'Tis  certain  he 
ought  to  have." 

"  'Tis  certain  he  did  not,"  said  one  of  the  guards 
on  the  steps. 

Hudsdon  made  his  way  through  the  group  on  the 
steps,  strode  upon  the  stage,  and,  going  to  the  centre 
thereof,  to  Mr.  Burbage's  utter  amazement,  said  to 
Roger  Barnet  : 

"There's  deviltry  afoot!  The  prisoner  came  not 
yonder,  yet  he  is  not  here  !  " 

"What  say'st  thou  ? "  replied  Roger,  turning  dark, 
and  springing  to  his  feet.  "  Thou'st  been  cozened, 
Hudsdon!  He  fled  yonder;  I  saw  him!"  And  he 
pointed  toward  the  tiring-room. 

"  Nay,"  said  one  of  the  gallants  on  the  stage,  "he 
fled  over  the  balcony,  into  the  house."  The  speaker 
indicated  the  balcony  used  by  Juliet,  which,  as  has 
been  said,  was  no  higher  above  the  back  of  the  stage 
than  were  the  eyes  of  a  man  standing.  "  That  I'll 
swear.  He  grasped  the  balustrade,  and  drew  himself 
up,  and  bent  around,  and  put  knee  to  the  balcony's 
edge ;  and  then  'twas  short  work  over  the  balustrade 
and  across  the  balcony." 

"  Ay,  'tis  so  !  "  cried  out  many  voices  from  near 
the  stage,  and  from  the  occupied  part  of  the  balcony 
itself. 

"  Why,  then,  Hudsdon,  take  three  men,  and  search 
the  house,"  cried  Roger,  for  whom  Mr.  Burbage  had 


A    NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN   OLD   PLAY.        395 

indignantly  made  way  by  retiring  to  the  back  of  the 
stage.  Then  the  pursuivant  turned  to  his  informants  : 
"  An  ye  had  eyes  for  so  much,  had  none  of  you  the 
wit  to  call  out  whither  he  went  ?  " 

"I  thought  it  was  part  of  the  play,"  lisped  the 
gallant.  "  I  thought  he  ran  away  lest  he  be  taken 
for  killing  the  witty  gentleman." 

"Why,  so  he  did,"  quoth  Barnet,  "but  he  ought 
not  to  have  run  to  the  balcony  !  " 

"Marry,  look  you,"  said  the  other,  "he  cried 
'  Away  ! '  and  started  for  the  curtain  ;  then  he  said, 
'  Nay,  I'll  to  the  balcony ! '  and  so  to  the  balcony  he 
went.  I  thought  'twas  in  the  play." 

"  I  knew  the  play,"  called  out  a  gentleman  in  the 
balcony,  "  but  I  thought  the  action  had  mayhap  been 
changed.  We  all  thought  so,  who  saw  him  pass 
this  way." 

"  Devil  take  prating  !  "  muttered  Barnet.  "  Daw- 
kins,  go  you  with  three  men  and  seek  in  the  street 
hereabout  for  him,  or  word  of  him.  You  three,  to 
the  stables,  and  out  with  the  horses !  A  murrain  on 
plays  and  play-acting  !  —  I  don't  mean  that,  neither, 
Master  Shakespeare"  (for  the  poet  had  hastened  to 
the  stage  to  see  what  the  matter  was),  "  but  I've  been 
a  blind  ass  this  day,  and  I  would  I  had  your  art  to 
tell  my  feelings  !  " 

And  he  limped  after  Hudsdon,  to  assist  in  the 
search  of  the  house. 


396  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

This  was  a  large  inn,  and  required  long  searching. 
As  for  the  men  ordered  to  seek  in  the  adjacent 
streets,  they  were  a  good  while  hindered  in  making 
their  way  through  the  crowd  in  the  yard.  Those 
who  went  to  take  out  the  horses  were  similarly 
impeded. 

Meanwhile,  for  a  time  there  was  clamor  and  con 
fusion  among  the  spectators.  Some  of  the  dull 
witted,  who  had  lost  interest  in  the  play  after  the 
novelty  of  the  opening  scenes,  followed  the  four 
men  to  the  street.  The  most,  thinking  the  prisoner 
might  be  found  in  the  house,  chose  to  remain  where 
they  were,  deciding  not  to  sacrifice  a  certain  pleas 
ure  for  the  uncertain  one  of  joining  a  hunt  for  an 
escaped  prisoner.  So  there  were  calls  for  the  play 
to  go  on.  It  was  therefore  taken  up  at  the  point 
where  Marry ott  had  failed  to  appear,  Master  Shakes 
peare  assuming  Tybalt's  part  for  the  one  short 
speech,  and  the  swift  death,  that  remained  to  it. 
Thenceforward  there  was  no  stoppage.  My  lord 
and  his  lady  listened  with  rapt  attention,  and  when 
at  last  the  two  lovers  lay  clasped  in  death  many  of 
the  audience  had  forgotten  the  episode  that  had 
interrupted  the  third  act. 

But  Roger  Barnet  had  other  occupation  than  to 
watch  the  resumed  play.  It  was  not  given  him  to 
end  as  agreeably  an  afternoon  so  pleasantly  begun  ; 
yet  matter  to  distract  his  thoughts  from  his  lame 


A    NEW  INCIDENT   TO   AN  OLD   PLAY.       397 

leg  was  not  lacking.  The  search  of  the  inn  yielding 
nothing,  the  scouring  of  the  immediate  neighborhood 
being  fruitless,  the  pursuivant  sent  his  men  through 
out  the  town  for  a  clue.  One  came  back  with  news 
that  a  man  of  the  prisoner's  description  had  been 
seen  taking  the  Stamford  road.  Another  returned 
with  word  that  the  lady  who  had  followed  from 
Foxby  Hall  had  tarried  a  short  while  at  another  inn  ; 
and  a  third  brought  information  that  this  lady  and 
her  escort  of  three  had  later  left  the  town  by  the 
road  to  London.  She  had  not,  indeed,  had  Barnet's 
reason  for  staying  in  Oakham,  and  it  was  quite 
natural  that  she  should  have  continued  her  homeward 
journey.  Her  departure  seemed  not  connected  in 
any  way  with  the  prisoner's  flight. 

Meanwhile  the  horses  had  been  waiting  ready  in 
the  street  during  the  time  necessary  for  these  in 
quiries. 

"  To  saddle,  then,"  said  Barnet  to  Hudsdon,  "  every 
hound  of  us !  I'll  on  to  Fleetwood  house,  you  to 
the  Stamford  road.  'Tis  the  fiend's  work  that  your 
man  hath  two  hours'  start.  I  wonder  how  far  he 
is." 

Just  about  that  time,  as  the  players  were  sitting 
down  to  supper,  Master  Shakespeare  said : 

"  I  pray  Fortune  the  new  action  Hal  put  in  my 
tragedy  shall  prove  indeed  the  winning  of  his 
freedom  !  " 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

SIR    HARRY    AND    LADY    MARRYOTT. 

"  This  wild-goose  chase  is  done  ;  we  have  won  o'  both  sides."  —  The  Wild- 
Goose  Chase. 

MARRYOTT,  in  the  midst  of  the  fight  with  Mercu- 
tio,  had  in  a  flash  two  thoughts,  one  springing  from 
the  contact  of  his  glance  with  the  balcony,  the  other 
following  instantly  upon  the  first.  The  first  was, 
that  a  man  might  gain  the  balcony  by  one  swift 
effort  of  agility  and  strength  ;  the  second  was,  that 
when  momentous  action  holds  the  attention  of  spec 
tators  to  one  part  of  a  stage,  a  person  elsewhere  on 
the  stage  may  move  unobserved  before  their  eyes, 
if  his  movement  be  swift,  silent,  and  in  harmony  with 
what  has  preceded,  —  a  fact  well  known  to  people 
of  stage  experience.  No  incident  in  the  drama  more 
focuses  attention  than  the  dying  scene  of  Mercutio  ; 
spectators  have  no  eyes  for  Tybalt,  of  whom  they 
retain  but  a  vague  impression  of  hasty  flight. 

The  thing  was  scarce  thought,  when  the  time  had 
come  to  act  it.  To  make  all  seem  right  to  those  he 
must  pass  near,  and  inspired  by  necessity,  he  indeed 
spoke,  for  their  ears  alone,  the  words,  "  Away  ! 

393 


SIR   HARRY  AA?D   LADY  MARRYOTT. 

I'll  to  the  balcony;"  at  the  same  time  casting  his 
sword  against  the  curtain,  so  that  it  fell  less  loudly 
to  the  stage.  He  seized  two  balusters,  swiftly  raised 
himself,  and  then  —  not  proceeding  exactly  as  the 
rustic  beau  had  described  —  lodged  a  foot  in  the 
angle  of  a  brace  supporting  the  balcony,  set  his  other 
foot  on  the  balcony's  edge,  and  rose  ready  to  swing 
his  body  over  the  rail.  To  do  this,  and  to  glide 
across  the  balcony  and  through  the  way  left  open  for 
Juliet,  was  the  matter  of  a  second.  He  was  con 
scious,  as  he  crossed  the  balcony,  of  slightly  surprised 
looks  from  the  musicians  at  one  side,  and  from  a  few 
spectators  at  the  other  ;  but  as  he  plunged  into  the 
room,  he  heard  behind  him  only  the  lamenting  voice 
of  Romeo.  Most  of  the  spectators,  and  those  chiefly 
concerned  in  his  doings,  had  not  observed  his  flight ; 
like  the  dupes  of  a  juggler,  in  watching  one  thing 
they  had  missed  another ;  and  those  who  perforce 
had  seen  his  exit  thought  all  was  as  it  should  be. 

Across  the  room  he  ran,  to  a  door  leading  into  a 
passage.  He  traversed  this  to  the  end,  where  a  win 
dow  gave  upon  the  street.  Through  the  window  ere 
he  had  time  to  think  of  possible  broken  bones,  he 
hung  from  the  ledge,  and  dropped.  The  fall  was 
from  the  second  story  only.  He  slipped  sidewise  on 
alighting,  jarred  his  elbow,  and  bruised  his  leg.  But 
he  was  up  in  a  moment.  The  street  was  deserted,  — 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood  was  at  the  play. 


4OO  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

He  looked  in  both  directions,  but  saw  no  horse. 
Then  he  started  on  a  run,  to  make  a  circuit  of  the 
inn.  If  the  horse  was  not  in  sight  on  one  side,  it 
must  be  so  on  another.  Fortune  could  not  so  cruelly 
will  it  that  when  at  last  he  had  made  the  dash,  per 
formed  the  miracle,  his  friends  should,  for  the  first 
time,  fail  him.  He  directed  his  steps  so  as  first  to 
pass  the  inn  gate,  and  be  gone  from  it  ere  Barnet's 
men  should  have  time  to  sally  out.  This  he  accom 
plished,  but  without  glimpse  of  the  horse.  He 
turned  into  a  street  on  the  third  side  of  the  inn  ; 
traversed  it  to  its  junction  with  a  lane  leading  toward 
the  side  where  he  had  landed  from  the  window ; 
darted  into  this  lane  with  the  fast-beating  heart  of  a 
dying  hope,  passed  half-way  through  it,  glanced  with 
dreading  eyes  down  a  narrow  passage  conducting 
from  it,  and  saw,  in  a  street  beyond,  the  waiting 
horse. 

How  he  covered  the  length  of  the  passage,  and 
vaulted  into  the  saddle,  he  never  could  recall.  His 
first  remembered  impression,  after  sight  of  the  horse, 
was  of  being  surrounded  by  Anne,  Kit,  and  Anthony, 
all  mounted  ;  and  seeing  Francis  glide  away  afoot  in 
quest  of  a  horse  for  his  own  riding.  There  was 
more  gravity  than  joy  in  the  faces  of  the  three  ;  the 
sight  of  him  alive  and  free  of  his  guards  was  too 
marvellous  for  outward  rejoicing.  Such  joy  is  like 
passions,  of  which  Raleigh  wrote,  that  they  — 


SIR   HARRY  AND   LADY  MARRYOTT.          40 1 

"...  are  likened  best  to  floods  and  streams : 
The  shallow  murmur,  but  the  deep  are  dumb." 

Anthony  avoided  Hal's  glance  by  looking  down ; 
Kit  Bottle  cleared  his  throat ;  from  Anne's  eyes  there 
was  the  least  gush  of  tears,  and  her  voice  trembled 
as  she  spoke  : 

"  God  be  thanked  !  I  dared  not  hope  for  this  !  " 
"  Nor  I,"  he  replied.     "  Whither  do  we  ride  ? " 
"  You,  to  the  Lincolnshire  coast,  with  Anthony. 
He  knows  secret  ways  of  embarkation  to  France." 

"  But  you  ?  —  you  waited  with  the  horse,  that  you 
might  ride  with  me,  is't  not  so  ?  " 

"  No  ;  that  I  might  see  all  done,  with  mine  own 
eyes,  and  you  escaped.  Anthony  has  money  for 
your  needs  to  France.  I  will  ride  home,  with  Captain 
Bottle  and  Francis.  Tarry  not  another  moment. 
You  are  to  ride  first  alone.  Anthony  will  leave  this 
town  with  us,  and  then  make  by  cross-ways  to  join 
you  soon  on  the  Stamford  road.  This  paper  tells 
where  one  shall  wait  for  the  other,  for  Anthony  may 
ride  the  faster,  knowing  better  the  ways.  I  have 
writ  it  so,  for  greater  surety  and  less  delay.  Go  now  ; 
here's  money,  of  Anthony's  lending.  Nay,  for  God's 
sake,  tarry  not !  " 

"  But  thou  ?     When  shall  I  see  or  hear  ?  " 
"  Anthony  will  tell  you  how  to  send  word.     Tarry 
not,  I  entreat !  " 

"Thou'st  been  too  good  to  me! " 


4O2  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

"  Nay,  'tis  not  goodness  alone  — 

And  she  finished  with  a  look  straight  and  deep 
into  his  eyes.  He  seized  her  hand,  and  kissed  it 
fervently. 

"And  thou'lt  wait  ?"  he  whispered. 

"  Forever,  if  need  !  —  but  let  it  not  be  so  long." 

With  his  free  hand,  he  grasped  Kit  Bottle's,  and 
wrung  from  the  old  soldier  a  husky  "  God  bless  thee, 
boy  !  "  Then  he  spurred  forward  in  the  direction 
silently  pointed  out  by  Anthony.  At  a  bend  of  the 
street,  he  turned  in  his  saddle,  and  cast  a  look  back. 
His  friends  were  motionless  upon  their  horses,  gaz 
ing  after  him  with  saddened,  softened  faces.  A 
slight  movement  of  Mistress  Hazlchurst's  gloved  hand, 
and  his  horse  had  carried  him  from  the  scene  ;  but  he 
bore  that  scene  ever  in  his  heart's  eye,  day  and  night, 
to  the  coast,  which,  thanks  to  his  good  start  and  tire 
less  riding,  he  reached  uncaught ;  over  sea  to  France, 
where  Anthony  soon  brought  him  into  sight  of  Sir 
Valentine  Fleetwood,  who  had  arrived  at  Dieppe  not 
a  day  sooner  than  Hal  had  disembarked  at  Boulogne  ; 
in  Paris,  where  Hal  got  an  honorable  post  in  a  great 
man's  household  through  the  influence  of  Sir  Valen 
tine's  wife,  —  for  it  turned  out  that  the  knight, 
unknown  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  had  a  wife,  after  all,  a 
French  lady  whose  virtue  and  beauty  easily  explained 
her  husband's  willingness  to  save  his  life  at  another's 
risk. 


S/A'   HARRY  AND   LADY  MARRYOTT.          403 

She  was  of  great  wealth,  and,  it  happened,  of  equal 
gratitude ;  whence  it  fell  out  that,  when  Master  Mar- 
ryott  returned  to  England,  after  the  accession  of 
King  James,  he  came  as  owner  of  an  estate  pre 
viously  purchased  in  his  name  by  Anthony  Under- 
hill ;  an  estate  sold  by  the  crown,  under  confiscation, — 
no  other  estate,  in  fact,  than  that  pertaining  to  Foxby 
Hall,  in  Yorkshire. 

Now  it  had  come  out  that  Mistress  Hazlehurst's 
brother,  before  getting  himself  killed  by  Sir  Valen 
tine  Fleetwood,  had  overladen  his  estate  with  debt, 
and,  in  conspiracy  with  his  sister's  man  of  business, 
had  made  way  with  her  portion  also.  When  the 
courts  of  law  had  finally  established  beyond  doubt 
that  she  was  penniless,  Master  Marryott  was  about 
returning  to  his  own  country,  fully  informed,  by 
Anne's  correspondence,  of  the  state  of  her  affairs. 
So  there  was  afforded  the  unique  spectacle  of  a 
lady  who  had  remained  unmarried  while  she  was 
supposably  an  heiress,  obtaining  a  husband  the 
moment  she  was  shown  to  be  a  beggar. 

"  I  think,  love,"  said  Sir  Harry  (he  was  knighted 
under  King  James,  on  no  better  pretext  than  having, 
with  his  own  servants,  rid  the  northern  counties  of  a 
famous  robber  called  Rumney  the  Highway,  whom 
Marryott's  man  Bottle  slew  in  single  combat),  "  I 
think  I  will  write  my  memoirs,  as  everybody  in 


404  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

France  does."  He  sat  idly  touching  a  viol  in  an 
upper  window-seat  of  Foxby  Hall,  one  summer  even 
ing,  while  Lady  Marryott  as  idly  fingered  a  virginal 
near  him. 

"  How  now,  Hal  ?     Hast  done  aught  wonderful  in 
thy  time  ?     'Faith,  thou  shouldst  have  told  me  !  " 

"  Rail  an  thou  wilt,  sweet !  But  there  is  much  for 
wonder  in  the  matter  that  brought  us  together,  — 
not  in  any  doing  of  mine,  forsooth,  but  in  Fortune's 
doing.  For  look  you,  had  I  not  indeed  tarried  here 
that  night  you  counterfeited  illness  in  this  room,  you 
might  perforce  have  talked  with  Roger  Barnet  ere 
the  six  days  were  done,  and  he  have  sent  back  to 
Sir  Valentine,  who  left  not  Fleetwood  house  till  the 
last  hour.  Thus,  perchance,  Sir  Valentine  had  not 
escaped  to  France ;  had  he  not  done  so,  I  had 
not  fared  well  there,  and  met  his  lady,  whose  grati 
tude  took  the  shape  of  filling  my  purse.  I  had  not 
then  come  back  as  owner  of  Foxby  Hall  at  the  very 
time  my  love  was  disowned  of  Fortune.  But  for  the 
sad  quarrel  'twixt  your  brother  and  Sir  Valentine, 
and  for  my  having  taken  up  the  queen's  thankless 
errand,  I  had  not  met  you  in  the  road  that  night ; 
but  for  the  continuance  of  my  pretence  to  be  Sir 
Valentine,  thou  hadst  not  followed  me  to  the  end  we 
wot  of." 

The  queen's  death  had  unsealed  his  lips,  —  though 
only  to  his   wife,  who  was   one  woman  that   could 


SIR   HARRY  AND   LADY  MARRYOTT.       405 

keep  a  secret,  —  regarding  her  Majesty's  commis 
sion. 

"Why,  then,"  said  Anne,  "but  for  the  queen's 
lingering  love  of  the  knight,  and  but  for  her  dread 
of  seeming  weak  to  her  councillors,  —  for  that  I  will 
take  oath  was  her  reason,  —  we  should  not  be  here 
together  this  moment.  Ne'ertheless,  'twas  a  cruel 
queen,  merely  to  save  her  pride  a  brief  unpleasant 
ness,  to  send  a  young  gentleman  to  risk  his  life !  " 

"  Marry,  Anne,  I  have  heard  of  ladies  who  were 
not  queens,  sending  great  lords  further,  for  less ! 
But  look  you,  I  took  the  errand  for  no  reward,  being 
minded  like  to  Master  Spenser's  knight : 

" '  Upon  a  great  adventure  he  was  bond, 
That  greatest  Gloriana  to  him  gave 
(That  greatest  glorious  Queen  of  Faerie  land), 
To  win  him  worship,  and  her  grace  to  have.' 

"  Nay,  I  know  thou'lt  say,  much  virtue  in  her  grace  ! 
But  bethink  you,  if  I  looked  for  no  other  direct 
reward,  and  got  none,  neither  did  I  look  for  the 
indirect  rewards  Fortune  took  it  on  herself  to  pay 
me  withal.  If  I  sought  only  the  queen's  grace,  and 
mayhap  received  small  share  of  that,  was  I  not  put 
in  the  way  of  winning  thy  grace,  my  sweet,  and  of 
all  else  I  have  ? " 

"  Nay,  perhaps  Fortune  had  found  other  ways  to 
bring  these  things  to  thee.  Look  out  of  the  window, 


406  A    GENTLEMAN  PLAYER. 

Harry,  and  bid  Kit  Bottle  not  make  little  Will  run 
so  fast.  Thine  old  bully  is  the  child's  undoing !  " 

"  Nay,  the  lad  is  safe  with  Kit ;  though  indeed  the 
old  rascal  spoils  him  some.  What  was  he  doing 
yesterday,  but  teaching  him  to  counterfeit  Anthony 
Underhill's  psalm-singing  ?  A  steward  of  Anthony's 
years  deserves  more  courtesy." 

"  If  the  boy  grow  up  as  brave  a  gentleman  as 
thou,  Hal,  I  shall  be  content.  There  be  honors 
waiting  for  him  in  the  world,  I  trow." 

"Why,  he  hath  some  honor  already,  methinks, 
in  being  Will  Shakespeare's  godson.  'Sooth,  the 
players  will  not  know  him  for  the  same  lad  when 
we  go  again  to  London,  he  hath  shot  up  so  tall. 
But  thou  wert  speaking  of  that  night,  when  thy 
feigned  tears  conquered  me  in  this  room  — " 

"Nay,  thou  wert  speaking  of  it,  love." 

"  Thou  hast  never  told  me ;  never  have  I  dared 
ask  :  was  —  all  —  counterfeit  that  night  ?  " 

"  Why,  —  my  lord,  —  the  illness,  indeed,  was  coun 
terfeit ;  but  the  kisses  —  though  perhaps  I  had  with 
held  them,  save  for  my  purpose  —  were  real  enough, 
God  wot,  once  my  lips  were  loosed  !  And  I  marvel 
I  could  still  cling  to  my  revenge,  yet  yield  myself 
to  thine  arms  so  willingly !  Nay,  Hal,  there's  no 
need  to  act  the  scene  anew !  Out  on  thee,  madcap, 
thou'st  crushed  my  kirtle  —  !  " 

THE    END. 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


NOTE  i.     (Page  12.) 

Mr.  Fleay  seems  satisfied  that  1601  was  the  year  of 
the  production  of  Shakespeare's  first  "  Hamlet."  But 
he  believes  it  was  "  hurriedly  prepared  during  the  jour 
ney  to  Scotland,"  where  the  players  had  arrived  by 
October,  when  they  were  at  Aberdeen.  "  In  their  travels 
this  year  they  visited  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cam 
bridge,  where  they  performed  '  Julius  Caesar '  and  '  Ham 
let.'  "  That  "  Hamlet "  was  the  second  of  these  two 
plays  produced,  seems  evident  from  the  allusion  of  "  Co- 
rambis "  ("  Polonius ")  to  his  having  played  "  Julius 
Caesar  "  at  the  University.  But  this  speech  might  have 
been  added  to  the  first  version  after  its  original  produc 
tion,  and  before  the  publication  in  1603  of  the  garbled 
first  quarto;  for  two  plays  whose  London  productions 
are  assigned  by  Fleay  to  1601  ("  Satiromastix  "  and  "  The 
Malcontent")  contain  allusions  to  "Hamlet."  If  the 
lord  chamberlain's  company  did  not  act  again  in  Lon 
don  in  1 60 1  after  its  departure  on  its  travels,  how  account 
for  these  allusions,  unless  "  Hamlet "  had  been  acted  in 
London  before  the  company's  departure  ?  Dr.  Furnivall 
would  forestall  this  question  by  saying  that  "  the  '  Hamlet ' 

409 


4IO  NOTES. 

allusions  in  and  before  1602  are  to  an  old  play."  But  it 
seems  as  fair  to  conjecture  a  slightly  earlier  production 
of  the  new  play,  in  accounting  for  these  allusions,  as  a 
general  revival  of  interest  in  an  old  play  ;  and  the  fact  that 
the  allusions  are  not  true  to  speeches  actually  occurring 
in  Shakespeare's  first  "  Hamlet  "  will  not  weigh  with  those 
who  consider  the  methods  of  satire  and  burlesque.  The 
lines  in  the  play  that  seemingly  attribute  the  company's 
travelling  to  the  popularity  of  the  "  little  eyases "  (the 
Chapel  Royal  children  acting  at  the  Blackfriars  Theatre) 
are  rather  such  as  would  have  been  designed  for  a  London 
audience  on  the  eve  of  the  company's  departure,  as  a  pre 
text  for  an  exile  due  to  royal  disfavor,  than  for  University 
audiences,  to  whom  the  players  would  less  willingly  con 
fess  a  waning  of  London  popularity ;  or  than  for  a  London 
audience  after  the  company's  return,  when  the  allusion, 
though  still  of  interest,  would  be  the  less  likely  to  serve  a 
purpose.  The  conclusion  here  driven  at  is,  that  Sir 
Henry  Marryott's  narrative  is  not  to  be  impugned  be 
cause  he  places  the  first  "  Hamlet "  performance  before 
the  company's  departure  from  London,  while  the  investi 
gators  place  it  after.  Heaven  forfend  that,  even  on  a 
single  unimportant  question,  the  present  writer  should 
rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread,  to  the  arena  of  Shake 
spearean  controversy,  to  whose  confusion  even  such  a 
master  as  Mr.  Saintsbury  refrains  from  adding  ! 

NOTE  2.     (Page  14.) 

The    occasion  for  the   lord   chamberlain's   players   to 
travel  was  one  of  the  numerous  minor  episodes  of  the 


NOTES.  411 

Essex  conspiracy.  That  plot  to  seize  Whitehall,  and  dic 
tate  a  change  of  government  to  the  queen,  was  hatched 
at  Drury  House  by  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  his  friends,  in 
January.  Early  in  February  Essex  was  ordered  to  appear 
before  the  council,  and  he  received  an  anonymous  letter 
of  warning.  It  was  decided  that  the  rising  should  occur 
Sunday,  February  8th.  On  Thursday,  February  5th,  Es 
sex's  friends  went  to  the  Globe  Theatre  to  see  Shakes 
peare's  "  Richard  II."  performed,  —  a  play  affording 
them  a  kind  of  example  for  their  intended  action.  (In 
the  trials  in  March,  Meyrick  was  indicted  for  "having 
procured  the  out-dated  tragedy  of  '  Richard  II.'  to  be 
publicly  acted  at  his  own  charge,  for  the  entertainment  of 
the  conspirators.")  Of  the  shareholding  members  of  the 
company  of  players,  the  one  who  had  arranged  this  per 
formance  was  Augustine  Phillips.  The  rising  in  Lon 
don,  when  it  occurred,  was  abortive,  and  Essex  was 
taken  to  the  Tower,  those  of  his  adherents  who  sur 
rendered,  or  were  caught,  being  distributed  among  differ 
ent  London  prisons.  On  February  i8th,  the  confessions 
of  several  of  Essex's  friends  were  taken.  The  next 
day,  Essex  and  Southampton,  Shakespeare's  friend,  were 
brought  before  a  commission  of  twenty-five  peers  and 
nine  judges,  in  Westminster  Hall.  Things  were  done 
expeditiously  in  that  reign :  at  7  p.  M.,  the  same  day, 
sentence  of  death  was  pronounced  upon  Essex,  and  he 
was  taken  back  to  the  Tower.  Six  days  later,  February 
25th,  he  was  beheaded.  Southampton  was  kept  a  long 
time  in  prison.  Four  of  Essex's  associates  were  exe 
cuted.  One  of  several  remarkable  features  of  this  little 


412  NOTES. 

affair  was  that  the  band  of  conspirators  included  Catho 
lics  and  Puritans,  as  well  as  men  of  the  established 
church.  To  return  to  the  players :  Mr.  Fleay  says  it  is 
"clear  that  the  subjects  chosen  for  historical  plays  by 
Marlowe  and  Shakespeare  were  unpopular  at  court,  but 
approved  of  by  the  Essex  faction,  and  that  at  last  the 
company  incurred  the  serious  displeasure  of  the  queen. 
So  they  did  not  perform  at  court  at  Christmas,  1601." 
In  the  previous  Christmas  season,  they  had  given  three 
performances  at  court.  In  Elizabeth's  reign,  this  com 
pany  acted  at  court  twenty-eight  plays,  twenty  of  which 
were  by  Shakespeare,  eight  by  other  men.  This  shows 
that  the  age  which  could  produce  a  Shakespeare  could 
appreciate  him,  —  as  somebody  has  said,  or  ought  to  have 
said. 

NOTE  3.     (Page  18.) 

"  Boys  were  regularly  apprenticed  to  the  profession  in 
those  days,"  says  the  anonymous  author  of  "  Lights  of 
the  Old  English  Stage."  "  Each  principal  was  entitled 
to  have  a  boy  or  apprentice,  who  played  the  young  and 
the  female  characters,  and  for  whose  services  he  received 
a  certain  sum."  This  certain  sum  was,  of  course,  paid 
out,  like  the  rent  and  other  common  expenses  of  the 
theatre,  before  money  taken  in  was  divided  among 
the  different  shareholders.  All  the  principals  were 
shareholders.  The  Globe  Theatre  was  owned  by  the 
Burbages.  Hence  Richard  Burbage  would  first  receive 
rent,  as  owner  of  the  playhouse,  and  would  later  re 
ceive  his  part  of  the  profits  as  a  shareholder.  As  to  these 


NOTES.  413 

apprentices,  one  finds  mention  of  "  coadjutors,"  "  serv 
itors,"  and  "  hired  men,"  not  to  speak  of  "  tire-boys," 
"  stage-boys,"  etc.  Those  boys  that  played  female  parts 
must  have  played  them  effectively,  notwithstanding  the 
unwillingness  of  Shakespeare's  Egyptian  queen  to  see,  on 
the  Roman  stage,  "  some  squeaking  Cleopatra  boy  my 
greatness."  Else  would  Shakespeare  have  dared  to  write, 
for  acting,  such  parts  as  Juliet  and  Beatrice,  and,  above 
all,  such  as  Rosalind  and  Viola,  in  which  a  boy,  dressed 
as  a  boy,  should  yet  have  to  seem  a  girl  disguised  ?  The 
anonymous  writer  already  quoted  says  of  these  boys : 
"  Thus  trained  under  great  masters,  it  is  not  to  be  won 
dered  at  that  they  grew  up  to  be  such  consummate  masters 
of  their  art."  It  is  well  known  that  women  did  not  ap 
pear  on  the  stage  in  England  before  1662,  forty-six  years 
after  Shakespeare's  death. 

NOTE  4.     (Page  19.) 

If  anybody  supposes  that  Burbage  would  not  be 
thought  a  great  or  a  finished  actor,  were  he  now  alive 
and  acting  just  as  he  did  in  his  own  day,  let  that  person 
read  the  various  poems  written  at  his  death  and  descrip 
tive  of  the  effect  produced  by  him  on  his  audiences.  His 
Romeo  "  begot  tears."  His  Brutus  and  Marcius  "  charmed 
the  faculty  of  ears  and  eyes."  "  Every  thought  and  mood 
might  thoroughly  from  "  his  "  face  be  understood."  "  And 
his  whole  action  he  could  change  with  ease,  from  ancient 
Lear  to  youthful  Pericles."  In  the  part  of  the  "  grieved 
Moor,"  "  beyond  the  rest  he  moved  the  heart."  "  His 
pace"  suited  with  "his  speech,"  and  "his  every  action" 


414  NOTES. 

was  "  grace."  His  tongue  was  "  enchanting  "  and  "  won 
drous."  Bishop  Corbet  tells  in  verse  how  his  host  at 
Leicester,  in  describing  the  battle  of  Bosworth  field,  used 
the  name  of  Burbage  when  he  meant  King  Richard.  Or 
let  the  skeptic  read  what  Flecknoe  says  :  "  He  was  a  de 
lightful  Proteus,  so  wholly  transforming  himself  into  his 
part,  and  putting  off  himself  with  his  clothes,  as  he  never 
(not  so  much  as  in  the  tyring-house)  assumed  himself 
again  until  the  play  was  done.  .  .  .  His  auditors  "  were 
"  never  more  delighted  than  when  he  spoke,  nor  more  sorry 
than  when  he  held  his  peace ;  yet  even  then  he  was  an 
excellent  actor  still,  never  failing  in  his  part  when  he  had 
done  speaking  ;  but  with  his  looks  and  gesture,  maintaining 
it  still  unto  the  height."  His  death,  in  1618,  so  over 
shadowed  that  of  the  queen  of  James  I.,  as  a  public  calam 
ity,  that  after  weeping  for  him,  the  people  had  no  grief  left 
for  her  Majesty. 

NOTE  5.     (Page  20.) 

As  to  false  beards  worn  on  the  stage  at  that  time, 
recall  Nick  Bottom's  readiness  to  discharge  the  part  of 
"  Pyramus "  in  "  either  your  straw-color  beard,  your 
orange-tawny  beard,  your  purple-in-grain  beard,  or  your 
French  crown-color  beard,  your  perfect  yellow ; "  and, 
later,  his  injunction  to  his  fellow  actors  to  get  good 
strings  to  their  beards;  regarding  which  injunction, 
George  Steevens  says :  "  As  no  false  beard  could  be  worn 
without  a  ligature  to  fasten  it  on,  Bottom's  caution  must 
mean  more  than  the  mere  security  of  his  comrades'  beards. 
The  good  strings  he  recommends  were  probably  orna- 


NOTES.  415 

mental.  This  may  merely  show  how  little  a  former-day 
Shakespearean  commentator  might  know  of  the  acting 
stage.  A  bad  "  ligature  "  might  give  way  and  make  the 
actor  ridiculous  by  the  sudden  shedding  of  his  beard. 
Such  an  accident  was  one  against  which  Bottom,  being 
of  an  active  jaw,  might  be  particularly  precautious.  In 
a  full  beard,  ascending  at  the  sides  of  the  face  to  meet 
the  hair  of  the  head,  the  ligature  could  be  completely 
concealed.  But  often  glue  was  used,  to  fasten  on  false 
beards.  "  Some  tinker's  trull,  with  a  beard  glued  on," 
says  a  character  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  "  The  Wild- 
Goose  Chase."  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  wore  a  false  beard 
in  his  betrayed  attempt  to  escape  down  the  Thames, 
night  of  August  9,  1618.  Real  beards  of  the  time  were  of 
every  form, — pointed,  fan-shaped,  spade-shaped,  T-shaped, 
often  dyed. 

NOTE  6.     (Page  32.) 

"  Fencing  was  taught  as  a  regular  science,"  says 
George  Steevens,  in  a  note  to  "  The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor."  "  Three  degrees  were  usually  taken  in  this 
art,  a  master's,  a  provost's,  and  a  scholar's.  For  each  of 
these  a  prize  was  played.  The  weapons  they  used  were 
the  axe,  the  pipe,  rapier  and  target,  rapier  and  cloak,  two- 
swords,  the  two-hand  sword,  the  bastard-sword,  the  dag 
ger  and  staff,  the  sword  and  buckler,  the  rapier  and 
dagger,  etc.  The  places  where  they  exercised  were,  com 
monly,  theatres,  halls,  or  other  enclosures."  A  party  of 
young  gallants  at  a  tavern,  says  Thornbury,  would  often 
send  for  a  fencing-master  to  come  and  breathe  them.  The 


416  NOTES. 

great  dictator  in  fencing,  duelling,  etc.,  in  London,  about 
1600,  was  Vincentio  Savolio,  whose  book  on  the  "Use  of 
the  Rapier  and  Dagger  "  and  on  "  Honor  and  Honorable 
Quarrels"  was  printed  in  London  in  1595.  The  Diction 
ary  of  National  Biography  says  he  was  born  in  Padua, 
and,  after  obtaining  a  reputation  as  a  fencer,  came  to 
England  and  was  taken  into  the  service  of  the  Earl 
of  Essex.  "  In  '  As  You  Like  It,'  Touchstone's  description 
of  the  various  forms  of  a  lie  is  obviously  based  on  Savolio's 
chapter  '  Of  the  Manner  and  Diversitie  of  Lies.' " 
Though  a  great  swordsman,  Savolio  seems  to  have  been 
anything  but  a  brawler,  or  an  abettor  of  fighting.  In  his 
book  he  deprecates  quarrels  upon  insufficient  causes. 

NOTE  7.     (Page  45.) 

Nobody  needs  to  be  reminded  that  the  original  of 
Justice  Shallow  is  supposed  to  have  been  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy,  the  knight  of  Charlecote  Hall,  whose  deer  the 
legend  has  it  Shakespeare  stole ;  as  steal  them  he  probably 
did,  if  deer  there  were  to  steal,  and  if  Shakespeare  was 
not  totally  different  from  other  boys  with  the  opportuni 
ties  for  dangerous  frolic  afforded  by  a  rustic  environment 
and  a  middle-class  condition  of  life.  On  this  subject  one 
might  pleasurably  re-read  Washington  Irving's  account 
(in  "  The  Sketch  Book  ")  of  his  visit  to  Charlecote  Hall. 
Regarding  the  proneness  of  provincial  great  men  to  boast 
of  their  wickedness  in  the  metropolis,  Falstaff  hits  off  the 
type,  as  it  is  not  yet  entirely  dead,  when  he  says  of  Shal 
low:  "This  same  starved  justice  hath  done  nothing  but 
prate  to  me  of  the  wildness  of  his  youth,  and  the  feats 


NOTES.  417 

he  hath  clone  about  Turnbull  Street :  and  every  third 
word  a  lie,  cluer  paid  to  the  hearer  than  the  Turk's  trib 
ute."  The  rest  of  the  speech,  wherein  it  is  shown  what 
figure  Master  Shallow  really  made  in  Turnbull  Street,  is 
not  here  quotable ;  but  it  is  none  the  less  readable. 


NOTE  8.     (Page  46.) 

One  might  fill  pages  with  the  mere  names  of  the  dif 
ferent  classifications  of  Elizabethan  rogues,  and  of  the 
several  members  of  each  kind  of  gang.  We  have  not  at 
all  advanced  in  thievery  since  Elizabeth's  day.  The 
"  confidence  game "  played  by  New  York  "  crooks  "  on 
visitors  from  the  interior,  this  present  year,  was  played 
under  another  name,  in  Shakespeare's  time.  The 
"  come-on "  of  present-day  New  York  is  but  the  lineal 
descendant  of  the  "  cony  "  of  Sixteenth  Century  London. 
Of  thieves,  impostors,  and  beggars,  a  few  of  the  varieties 
were  :  Rufflers,  upright  men,  hookers,  wild  rogues,  prig- 
gers  of  prancers  (horse-thieves),  pallyards,  fraters,  prigs, 
curtals,  Irish  rogues,  ragmen,  jackmen,  abram  men,  mad 
Toms  of  Bedlam,  whipjacks,  cranks,  dommerers,  glim- 
merers,  travelling  tinkers,  and  counterfeit  soldiers,  besides 
the  real  soldiers  who  turned  to  crime.  "  Laws  were  made 
against  disbanded  soldiers  who  took  to  robbing  and  mur 
der,"  says  Thornbury ;  "  and  the  pursuit  by  hue  and  cry, 
on  horse  and  foot,  was  rendered  imperative  in  every 
township."  There  were  ferreters,  falconers,  shifters, 
rank  riders,  —  the  list  is  endless.  The  generic  name  for 
gambling  cheats  was  rooks,  and  these  were  divided  into 


41 8  NOTES. 

puffs,  setters,  gilts,  pads,  biters,  droppers,  filers.  Gull- 
gropers  were  gamblers  who  hunted  fools  in  the  ordinaries 
(eating-houses)  ;  each  gang  was  composed  of  four  men,  — 
leader,  eagle,  wood-pecker,  gull-groper  (this  nama  serving 
for  the  variety  as  well  as  for  the  species).  A  gambling 
gang  with  another  method  of  operation  was  made  up  of 
the  setter  or  decoy  duck,  the  verser  and  barnacle,  the 
accomplice,  the  rutter  or  bully.  Some  gamesters  used 
women  as  decoys.  Of  dice  tricks,  there  were  those 
known  as  topping,  slurring,  stabbing,  palming,  knap 
ping,  besides  various  others.  In  addition  to  having  all 
these  —  and  many  more  —  varieties  of  rogues  to  support, 
the  nation  was  overrun  with  gipsies,  who  thieved  in  a 
world  of  ways.  The  whole  population  of  England  in 
1604  is  said  to  have  been  only  about  5,000,000;  that 
of  London  was  little  more  than  150,000.  And  yet,  the 
known  rogues  being  deducted,  and  the  secret  rogues, 
there  seem  to  have  been  some  honest  people  left. 

NOTE  9.     (Page  48.) 

The  Marryott  memoirs  (chief  source  of  this  narrative), 
in  recounting  the  talk  at  the  Mermaid,  naturally  do  not 
pause  to  describe  the  tavern.  The  slight  description 
here  given  has  had  to  be  pieced  together,  of  scraps  found 
in  various  places,  one  being  a  magazine  article  contain 
ing  what  purport  to  be  actual  details,  but  which  have  the 
look  of  coming  from  some  bygone  work  of  fiction.  Stow, 
in  his  "  Survay  of  London  "  (1598),  has  nothing  to  say  of 
the  Mermaid ;  he  twice  mentions  the  "  fair  inns  "  in  Bread 


NOTES.  419 

Street.  I  fancy  that  if  there  were  anywhere  the  authentic 
materials  for  a  full  description  of  the  house,  such  zealous 
lighters-up  of  the  past  as  Besant  (who  in  his  "  London  " 
describes  the  Falcon  but  not  the  Mermaid),  F.  F.  Ordish 
("  Shakespeare's  London,"  a  charming  little  book,  inside 
and  out),  Loftie  (in  his  excellent  history  of  London), 
Hubert  Hall  (who  in  his  "  Society  in  the  Elizabethan 
Age "  describes  the  Tabard  in  Southwark  but  not  the 
Mermaid),  Walter  Thornbury  (whose  two  volumes  on  the 
England  of  Shakespeare  are  rich  especially  on  tavern  life, 
mainly  as  reflected  in  plays  and  pamphlets  of  the  time), 
Edwin  Goadby  (whose  compact  little  book  on  the  same 
subject  is  crowded  with  matter),  and  the  host  of  others, 
including  the  most  recent  biographers  of  Shakespeare, 
would  have  found  it  out.  A  thing  we  certainly  know  of 
the  Mermaid,  in  addition  to  its  location  and  its  three 
entrances,  is  that  the  wine  and  the  wit  there  elicited  from 
Francis  Beaumont  to  Ben  Jonson  these  famous  "  Lines 
sent  from  the  country  with  two  unfinished  comedies, 
which  deferred  their  merry  meetings  at  the  Mermaid : " 

"  In  this  warm  shine 
I  lie  and  dream  of  your  full  Mermaid  wine . 

Methinks  the  little  wit  I  had  is  lost, 

Since  I  saw  you,  for  wit  is  like  a  rest 

Held  up  at  tennis,  which  men  do  the  best 

With  the  best  gamesters.     What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the  Mermaid  !  Heard  words  that  have  been 

So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtle  flame, 

As  if  that  every  one  from  whence  they  came 

Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest, 


420  NOTES. 

And  had  resolved  to  live  a  fool  the  rest 

Of  his  dull  life ;  than  when  there  hath  been  thrown 

Wit  able  enough  to  justify  the  town 

For  three  days  past,  wit  that  might  warrant  be 

For  the  whole  city  to  talk  foolishly, 

Till  that  were  cancelled ;  and  when  that  was  gone, 

We  left  an  air  behind  us,  which  alone 

Was  able  to  make  the  two  next  companies 

Right  witty,  though  but  downright  fools  more  wise." 

NOTE  10.     (Page  48.) 

For  the  better  observance  of  the  Lenten  statutes,  in 
every  ward  of  London  a  jury  was  sworn,  and  charged  by 
the  aldermen,  "  for  the  true  inquisition  of  killing,  selling, 
dressing,  or  eating  of  flesh  this  present  Lent,  contrary  to 
the  laws  and  statutes  of  this  realm  and  her  Majesty's 
proclamation  and  express  commandment."  In  accord 
ance  with  this  the  jury  "made  diligent  search  divers  and 
sundry  times  in  all  inns,  tabling-houses,  taverns,  cook 
houses,  and  victualling-houses  within  their  ward,"  and 
thereupon  either  "  resolved  that  they  "  had  "  not  hitherto 
found  any  to  offend  against  these  laws,"  or  they  presented 
the  names  of  those  who  had  "  so  continued  to  offend,  to 
the  officer."  Mr.  Hubert  Hall  says  :  "  The  non-observ 
ance  of  these  fast-days  was  no  slight  matter.  Not  only 
did  the  fisheries  suffer  in  consequence,  but  the  benefits  of 
an  occasional  variation  of  the  interminable  diet  of  salt 
beef  and  bad  beer  must  have  been  incalculable.  The 
obligation  of  the  crown  toward  one  class  of  its  subjects 
may  not  have  been  economically  imperative,  but  a  patri- 
archical  government  was  bound  to  consult  the  welfare  of 


NOTES.  421 

each."  When  Philip  Sidney  was  at  Oxford,  his  uncle 
solicited  for  him  "  a  license  to  eat  flesh  during  Lent,"  he 
being  "  somewhat  subject  to  sickness." 

NOTE  ii.     (Page  50.) 

According  to  Mr.  Fleay,  "  Every  Man  out  of  His 
Humor,"  produced  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in  1599,  was 
the  first  of  Ben  Jonson's  personal  satires  against  his  con 
temporaries.  Jonson  had  to  remove  these  satires  to  the 
Blackfriars,  that  same  year ;  when  began  the  "  war  of  the 
theatres,"  a  war  conducted,  through  plays  laden  with  per 
sonalities,  by  the  writers  and  actors  of  one  theatre  against 
the  writers  and  actors  of  another.  This  "  war  "  seems  to 
have  endured  till  after  the  time  of  our  narrative,  and  to 
have  died  a  natural  death.  Its  most  celebrated  pro 
ductions  were  Jonson's  "The  Poetaster"  and  Thomas 
Dekker's  reply  thereto,  "  Satiromastix."  Jonson's  "  comi 
cal  satires  "  were  acted  at  the  Blackfriars  by  the  Chapel 
Royal  boys,  the  "  little  eyases "  derided  in  "  Hamlet." 
Mr.  Fleay  finds  that  Jonson's  satires  were  directed 
against  Shakespeare  as  well  as  against  Dekker  and 
Marston.  Certain  allusions  and  characters,  in  Shake 
speare's  plays  produced  apparently  about  this  time,  have 
been  taken  as  his  contributions  to  this  war.  With 
another  rival  company,  also  of  boys,  —  those  of  St. 
Paul's  cathedral,  —  the  lord  chamberlain's  players  were 
friendly.  Mr.  Saintsbury  says  that  Jonson,  Dekker,  Chap 
man,  and  Marston  "  were  mixed  up,  as  regards  one  an 
other,  in  an  extricable  but  not  uninteresting  series  of 


422  NOTES. 

broils  and  friendships,  to  some  part  of  which  Shake 
speare  himself  was,  it  is  clear,  by  no  means  a  stranger." 
But  he  observes  that  the  direct  connection  of  these  quar 
rels,  "  even  with  the  literary  work  which  is  usually  linked 
to  them,  will  be  better  established  when  critics  have  left 
being  uncertain  whether  A  was  B,  or  B,  C."  I  have 
heard  it  suggested,  in  fun,  that  the  war  may  have  been 
a  device  to  stimulate  public  interest  in  the  theatres.  The 
Elizabethan  age  had  its  visitations  of  the  plague,  and  was 
therefore,  by  the  not  too  cruel  dispensers  of  good  and 
evil,  spared  the  advertising  malady  of  our  nineteenth  and 
twentieth  centuries.  Should  anything  like  this  war  of  the 
theatres  occur  to-day,  it  would  not  take  a  Scotland  Yard 
or  Mulberry  Street  detective  to  smell  out  ulterior  motives 
at  the  back  of  it.  The  Elizabethans,  besides  their  other 
advantages,  enjoyed  that  of  living  too  soon  to  know  or 
even  foresee  the  crafty  self-advertiser  or  the  "  clever 
press  agent ; "  else  had  there  surely  been  an  additional 
verse  in  their  Litany,  followed  by  a  most  fervent  "  Good 
Lord,  deliver  us !  " 

NOTE  12.     (Page  51.) 

"  But  that  a  gentleman  should  turn  player  hath  puzzled 
me."  To  make  an  actor  of  a  young  gentleman,  might, 
indeed,  become  a  "  Star  Chamber  matter."  Among  other 
"  misdemeanors  not  reducible  to  heads,"  given  in  a  Bod 
leian  Library  MS.,  entitled  "  A  Short  View  of  Criminal 
Cases  Punishable  and  Heretofore  Punished  in  the  Court 
of  the  Star  Chamber  in  the  Times  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
King  James,  and  His  Late  Majesty  King  Charles,"  is 


NOTES.  423 

this :  "  Taking  up  a  gentleman's  son  to  be  a  stage 
player."  See  John  S.  Burn's  notices  of  the  "  Star  Cham 
ber." 

NOTE  13.     (Page  56.) 

All  the  world  knows  that  in  1623,  seven  years  after 
Shakespeare's  death,  the  first  collected  edition  of  his 
plays  appeared,  under  the  supervision  of,  and  from 
manuscripts  provided  by,  Masters  Heminge  and  Condell. 
"  We  have  but  collected  them,"  say  they  in  their  dedi 
cation  inserted  in  the  subsequent  folio  (1632),  "and 
done  an  office  to  the  dead,  to  procure  his  orphans, 
guardians ;  without  ambition  either  of  self-profit  or  fame  : 
only  to  keep  the  memory  of  so  worthy  a  friend  and 
fellow  alive,  as  was  our  Shakespeare."  In  the  first 
folio  are  printed  "  The  names  of  the  principal  actors  in 
all  these  plays."  "  William  Shakspeare,"  heading  the  list, 
is  followed  in  order  by  "  Richard  Burbadge,"  "  John 
Hemings,"  and  "  Augustine  Philips ;  "  further  down  come 
"William  Slye "  and  "Henry  Condell."  Harry  Marry- 
ott's  association  with  the  company  was  too  brief,  his 
position  too  far  from  that  of  a  "  principal  actor,"  for 
his  name  to  be  included  in  the  list. 

NOTE  14.     (Page  59.) 

Shakespeare's  London  residence  in  October,  1598,  was 
in  the  parish  of  St.  Helen's,  Bishopsgate  (Fleay,  Ordish, 
and  others).  Countless  biographers  make  him  a  resident 
of  the  Southwark  side  of  the  river,  as,  "  He  lived  near  the 
Bear  Garden,  Southwark,  in  1596.  In  1609  he  occupied 


424  NOTES. 

a  good  house  within  the  liberty  of  the  Clink."  "  His 
house  was  somewhere  in  Clink  Street.  As  he  grew  more 
prosperous,  he  purchased  a  dwelling  on  the  opposite  shore 
near  the  Wardrobe,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  occu 
pied  it."  But  it  turns  out  that  William  Shakespeare  had 
two  brothers,  either  or  both  of  whom  dwelt  iri  Southwark, 
a  fact  that  confuses  the  apparent  evidence  of  his  own 
residence  there.  His  house  in  Blackfriars,  "  near  the 
Wardrobe,"  descended  by  will  to  his  daughter,  Susannah 
Hall.  His  purchase  of  New  Place,  at  Stratford,  was 
made  in  1597;  but,  though  he  may  have  at  once  in 
stalled  his  family  there,  he  certainly  remained  for  some 
years  afterward  a  Londoner. 

NOTE  15.     (Page  63.) 

Turnbull  Street  was  a  notorious  nest  of  women  of  ill 
fame,  and  of  men  equally  low  in  character.  Falstaff's 
mention  of  it  has  been  quoted  in  a  previous  note.  In 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  burlesque,  "  The  Knight  of  the 
Burning  Pestle,  "  the  speech  of  a  prisoner,  alluding  to  his 
fair  companion,  contains  this  bit  of  humor : 

"  I  am  an  errant  knight  that  followed  arms 
With  spear  and  shield  ;  and  in  my  tender  years 
I  stricken  was  with  Cupid's  fiery  shaft, 
And  fell  in  love  with  this  my  lady  dear, 
And  stole  her  from  her  friends  in  Turnbull  Street." 

It  was  also  known  as  Turnmill  Street.  "Turnemill 
Street,"  says  Stow,  "  which  stretcheth  up  to  the  west  of 
Clerkenwell  "  (from  the  "  lane  called  Cow  Cross,  of  a 
cross  sometime  standing  there"). 


NOTES.  425 

NOTE  1 6.     (Page  69.) 

Concerning  Queen  Elizabeth's  temper,  there  is,  besides 
a  wealth  of  other  evidence,  this  from  the  "  Character  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,"  by  Edmund  Bohun,  Esq.,  published  in 
Nichols's  "  Progresses  and  Public  Processions  of  Queen 
Elizabeth : "  "  She  was  subject  to  be  vehemently  trans 
ported  with  anger,  and  when  she  was  so,  she  would  show 
it  by  her  voice,  her  countenance,  and  her  hands.  She 
would  chide  her  familiar  servants  so  loud,  that  they  that 
stood  afar  off  might  sometimes  hear  her  voice.  And  it 
was  reported  that  for  small  offences  she  would  strike  her 
maids  of  honor  with  her  hand  ;  but  then  her  anger  was 
short  and  very  innocent.  And  when  her  friends  acknowl 
edged  their  offences,  she,  with  an  appeased  mind,  easily 
forgave  them  many  things." 

NOTE  17.     (Page  78.) 

The  famous  story  of  the  ring  is  perhaps  too  well  known 
to  be  repeated  here.  The  queen  had  once  given  the 
Earl  of  Essex  a  ring,  which,  if  ever  sent  to  her  as  a  token 
of  his  distress,  "  might  entitle  him  to  her  protection." 
While  under  sentence  of  death,  the  earl,  looking  out  of 
his  prison  window  one  morning,  engaged  a  boy  to  carry 
the  ring  to  Lady  Scroope,  the  Countess  of  Nottingham's 
sister,  an  attendant  on  the  queen,  and  to  beg  that  she 
would  present  it  to  her  Majesty.  "  The  boy,  by  mistake," 
continues  Birch's  version  of  the  story,  "carried  it  to  the 
Lady  Nottingham,  who  showed  it  to  her  husband,  the  ad 
miral,  an  enemy  of  Lord  Essex.  The  admiral  forbid  her 


426  NOTES. 

to  carry  it,  or  return  any  answer  to  the  message,  but 
insisted  on  her  keeping  the  ring."  When,  two  years 
later,  this  countess  was  on  her  death-bed,  she  sent  for 
the  queen,  told  her  all,  and  begged  forgiveness.  "  But 
her  Majesty  answered,  '  God  may  forgive  you,  but  I  never 
can,'  and  left  the  room  with  great  emotion.  Her  mind 
was  so  struck  with  the  story,  that  she  never  went  into 
bed,  nor  took  any  sustenance  from  that  instant,  for 
Camden  is  of  opinion  that  her  chief  reason  for  suffering 
the  earl  to  be  executed  was  his  supposed  obstinacy  in 
not  applying  to  her  for  mercy." 

NOTE  18.     (Page  80.) 

Of  one  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  most  characteristic  traits, 
Miss  Aikin  says :  "  It  has  been  already  remarked  that 
she  was  habitually,  or  systematically,  an  enemy  to  matri 
mony  in  general ;  and  the  higher  any  persons  stood  in 
her  good  graces,  and  the  more  intimate  their  intercourse 
with  her,  the  greater  was  her  resentment  at  detecting  in 
them  any  aspirations  after  this  state ;  for  a  kind  of 
jealousy  was  in  these  cases  superadded  to  her  malignity ; 
and  it  offended  her  pride  that  those  who  were  honored 
with  her  favor  should  find  room  in  their  thoughts  to 
covet  another  kind  of  happiness,  of  which  she  was  not 
the  dispenser."  When  Leicester  married  the  widowed 
Countess  of  Essex,  the  queen  had  him  confined  in  a  small 
fort  in  Greenwich  Park,  and  would  probably  have  sent 
him  to  the  Tower,  but  that  the  Earl  of  Sussex  dissuaded. 
Later,  when  Essex  married  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  widow, 


NOTES.  427 

Walsingham's  daughter,  Elizabeth  showed  rage  and  cha 
grin  in  a  degree  only  less  than  in  the  case  of  Leicester. 
One  of  her  attendants  wrote,  "  Yet  she  doth  use  it  more 
temperately  than  was  thought  for,  and,  God  be  thanked, 
doth  not  strike  at  all  she  threats."  Both  these  marriages 
were  conducted  secretly,  and  without  previous  request  for 
the  permission  her  Majesty  would  have  refused.  So  was 
that  of  Southampton,  in  1598,  by  which  that  nobleman  so 
incurred  the  queen's  displeasure  that,  when  she  heard  that 
Essex,  commanding  the  troops  in  Ireland,  had  appointed 
him  general  of  the  horse,  she  reprimanded  and  ordered 
Essex  to  recall  his  commission.  It  was  her  unhappy  fate 
that  all  her  favorites,  save  Hatton,  should  marry. 

NOTE  19.     (Page  82.) 

"  She  was  jealous  of  her  reputation  with  the  old  and 
cool-headed  lords  about  her,"  writes  Leigh  Hunt,  of  Eliza 
beth  at  the  time  of  the  Essex  conspiracy.  That  she  had 
grown  loath  to  betray  the  weaknesses  which  in  earlier  years 
she  had  made  no  attempt  to  conceal,  is  to  be  inferred 
also  from  the  lessening  degrees  of  wrath  she  evinced 
as  her  favorites,  one  after  another,  married ;  and  from 
Bohun's  statement,  regarding  her  anger,  that  "  she  learned 
from  Xenophon's  book  of  the  Institution  of  Cyrus,  the 
method  of  curbing  and  correcting  this  unruly  passion." 
A  wonderfully  human  and  pathetic  figure  :  the  vain  woman 
whose  glass  belied  the  gross  flattery  of  her  courtiers,  yet 
who  could  delude  herself  into  believing  them  sincere  ; 
the  "  greatest  Gloriana  "  whose  worshippers  declared  her 


428  NOTES. 

favor  their  breath  of  life,  yet  risked  it  for  the  smiles  of 
mere  gentlewomen  ;  the  stateswoman,  wise  enough  to  see 
her  kingdom's  future  safety  in  the  death  of  her  beauti 
ful  rival,  courageous  enough  to  sanction  that  death,  weak 
enough  to  shift  the  blame  on  poor  Davison ;  the  queen, 
who  could  say  on  horseback,  to  her  "  loving  people,"  "  I 
know  I  have  but  the  body  of  a  weak  and  feeble  woman, 
but  I  have  the  heart  of  a  king,  and  of  a  king  of  England, 
too,  and  think  foul  scorn  that  Parma,  or  Spain,  or  any 
prince  of  Europe,  should  dare  to  invade  the  borders  of 
my  realms ; "  and  yet  had  to  study  in  a  classic  author, 
how  to  keep  from  slapping  the  faces  of  her  maids  ! 

NOTE  20.     (Page  85.) 

The  pursuivants  who,  in  this  and  the  next  reign,  exe 
cuted  warrants  of  arrest,  are  not  to  be  confused  with  the 
pursuivants  of  the  Heralds'  College.  "  Send  for  his  mas 
ter  with  a  pursuivant,  presently,"  orders  Suffolk,  concern 
ing  an  apprentice's  master  accused  of  treason,  in  "  Henry 
VI.,  Part  II."  It  is  of  these  pursuivants  that  Hume 
writes  as  follows,  concerning  persons  who  sued  great 
lords  for  debt  in  Elizabeth's  reign :  "  It  was  usual  to 
send  for  people  by  pursuivants,  a  kind  of  harpies,  who 
then  attended  the  orders  of  the  council  and  high  commis 
sion  ;  and  they  were  brought  up  to  London,  and  con 
strained  by  imprisonment,  not  only  to  withdraw  their 
lawful  suits,  but  also  to  pay  the  pursuivants  great  sums 
of  money."  The  pursuivant,  with  his  warrants,  procla 
mations,  and  his  constant  "  In  the  queen's  name,"  is  a 


NOTES.  429 

familiar  figure  in  Elizabethan  literature.  In  Sir  Valentine 
Fleetwood's  case,  the  council  would  have  been  perhaps 
equally  or  more  in  custom  had  it  entrusted  the  prisoner's 
conveyance  to  London  to  some  gentleman  of  equal  rank 
to  his. 

NOTE  21.     (Page  86.) 

In  telling  Marryott  that  she  was  "not  wont  to  go  so 
strong  in  purse,"  the  queen  spoke  figuratively,  rather  than 
meant  that  she  had  for  once  assumed  the  functions  of 
purse-bearer,  or  that  a  purse  habitually  carried  by  her 
was  now  uncommonly  well  provided.  True,  either  of 
these  may  have  been  the  case.  Shakespeare  must  have 
modelled  the  minor  habits  of  his  queens  somewhat  upon 
those  of  Elizabeth  ;  and  he  makes  Cleopatra  give  a  mes 
senger  gold,  presumably  with  her  own  hand.  But  Eliza 
beth's  allusion  was  to  her  poverty,  and  in  keeping  with 
her  extreme  economy,  concerning  which  Hume  says : 
"  But  that  in  reality  there  was  little  or  no  avarice  in  the 
queen's  temper,  appears  from  this  circumstance,  that  she 
never  amassed  any  treasure,  and  even  refused  subsidies 
from  the  Parliament,  when  she  had  no  present  occasion 
for  them.  Yet  we  must  not  conclude  that  her  economy 
proceeded  from  a  tender  concern  for  her  people ;  she 
loaded  them  with  monopolies  and  exclusive  patents.  The 
real  source  of  her  frugal  conduct  was  derived  from  her 
desire  of  independency,  and  her  care  to  preserve  her 
dignity,  which  would  have  been  endangered  had  she  re 
duced  herself  to  the  necessity  of  having  frequent  recourse 
to  Parliamentary  supplies.  The  splendor  of  a  court  was, 


43  O  NOTES. 

during  this  age,  a  great  part  of  the  public  charge ;  and  as 
Elizabeth  was  a  single  woman,  and  expensive  in  no  kind 
of  magnificence  except  clothes,  this  circumstance  enabled 
her  to  perform  great  things  by  her  narrow  revenue.  She 
is  said  to  have  paid  four  millions  of  debt,  left  on  the 
crown  by  her  father,  brother,  and  sister,  —  an  incredible 
sum  for  that  age." 

NOTE  22.     (Page  87.) 

Elizabeth's  forenoons,  according  to  Bohun,  were  usually 
thus  passed :  "  First  in  the  morning,  she  spent  some  time 
at  her  devotions  ;  then  she  betook  herself  to  the  despatch 
of  her  civil  affairs,  reading  letters,  ordering  answers,  con 
sidering  what  should  be  brought  before  the  council,  and 
consulting  with  her  ministers.  When  she  had  thus  wearied 
herself,  she  would  walk  in  a  shady  garden,  or  pleasant 
gallery,  without  any  other  attendance  than  that  of  a  few 
learned  men.  Then  she  took  her  coach,  and  passed  in 
sight  of  her  people  to  the  neighboring  groves  and  fields ; 
and  sometimes  would  hunt  or  hawk.  There  was  scarce 
a  day  but  she  employed  some  part  of  it  in  reading  and 
study." 

NOTE  23.     (Page  92.) 

"  The  circuit  of  the  wall  of  London  on  the  land  side  " 
(writes  Stow  in  1598),  "  to  wit,  from  the  Tower  of  London 
in  the  east  unto  Aldgate,  is  82  perches;  from  Aldgate  to 
Bishopsgate,  86  perches ;  from  Bishopsgate  in  the  north, 
to  the  postern  of  Cripplegate,  162  perches;  from  Cripple- 
gate  to  Aldersgate,  75  perches;  from  Aldersgate  to 


NOTES.  431 

Newgate,  66  perches ;  from  Newgate  in  the  west,  to  Lud- 
gate,  42  perches;  in  all,  513  perches  of  assize.  From 
Ludgate  to  the  Fleet  Dike  west,  about  60  perches ;  from 
Fleet  Bridge  south,  to  the  river  Thames,  about  70  perches  ; 
and  so  the  total  of  these  perches  amounteth  to  643,  .  .  . 
which  make  up  two  English  miles,  and  more  by  608 
feet."  The  gates  here  mentioned,  as  Besant  says,  "  still 
stood,  and  were  closed  at  sunset,  until  1760.  Then  they 
were  all  pulled  down,  and  the  materials  sold."  Even  in 
Stow's  time,  the  city  had  much  outgrown  its  walls ;  of  its 
outer  part,  the  highways  leading  to  the  country  had  post- 
and-chain  bars,  which  were  closed  at  night. 

NOTE  24.     (Page  100.) 

Plays  of  the  time,  notably  Ben  Jonson's  "  Bartholomew 
Fair,"  show  in  what  contempt  and  ridicule  the  first  Puri 
tans  were  held.  Shakespeare's  Malvolio,  as  Maria  says, 
is  "  sometimes  a  kind  of  Puritan."  The  attitude  of  the 
obtrusive  kind  of  Puritanism  to  the  world,  and  of  the 
world  to  that  kind  of  Puritanism,  is  expressed  once  and 
forever  in  what  Hazlitt  terms  Sir  Toby's  "  unanswerable, 
answer  "  to  Malvolio,  "  Dost  thou  think,  because  thou  art 
virtuous,  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale  ? "  Though 
fellow  sufferers  of  governmental  severity,  the  Catholics 
and  Puritans  were  no  less  naturally  antipathetic  to  each 
other.  Ben  Jonson,  satirist  of  the  Puritans,  was,  in  his 
time,  alternately  Catholic  and  Anglican.  But  if  the  gov 
ernment,  in  support  of  the  established  church,  was 
outwardly  severe  against  the  Puritans,  they  had  much 


432  NOTES. 

covert  protection  at  court,  some  of  the  chief  lords  and 
ministers  inclining  their  way.  As  to  the  quality  of  voice 
affected  by  these  early  Puritans  in  their  devotions,  recall 
the  clown's  speech  in  the  "  Winter's  Tale  :  "  "  Three-man 
songmen  all,  and  very  good  ones ;  but  they  are  most  of 
them  means  and  bases ;  but  one  Puritan  amongst  them, 
and  he  sings  psalms  to  hornpipes." 

NOTE  25.     (Page  131.) 

The  Babington  conspiracy  gave  the  occasion  for  re 
moving  that  constant  menace  to  England's  future  peace, 
—  Mary  Stuart.  The  skill  with  which  Sir  Francis  Wal- 
singham  possessed  himself,  one  by  one,  of  the  secrets  of 
the  conspirators,  and  nursed  the  plot  forward  until  he 
had  complete  evidence  of  every  participant's  guilt,  and 
of  Mary's  complicity,  is  fascinating  to  study.  Mary 
of  course,  as  an  unwilling  prisoner,  had  a  perfect  moral 
right  to  plot  for  herself ;  but  she  knew  what  she  risked  in 
doing  so,  and  she  and  her  adherents  ran  against  their 
fatal  rock  in  Walsingham.  This  man's  journal  is  charac 
teristic  of  himself :  merely  the  briefest  entries,  of  this 
messenger's  arrival  from  France,  or  that  one's  departure 
for  the  Low  Countries,  or  of  a  letter  from  X,  or  an  order 
transmitted  to  B.  What  news  the  messengers  brought, 
what  the  letters  told,  or  the  orders  were,  is  not  confided 
to  the  paper.  In  vigilance  and  craft,  he  was  the  Eliza 
bethan  predecessor  of  Richelieu  and  Fouche ;  yet  a 
quiet,  virtuous  man,  who  loved  his  wife,  died  poor, 
and  leaned  toward  Puritanism.  His  spy  system  has 


NOTES.  433 

excited  the  righteous  horror  of  certain  historians  who 
would  never  have  ceased  to  admire  it,  had  it  been  exer 
cised  for,  not  against,  their  heroine,  Mary  Stuart.  His 
own  direct  instruments  served  him  better  than  he  was 
served  by  the  rank  and  file  of  the  law's  servants,  as  this 
letter  to  him,  from  Lord  Burleigh,  August  10,  1586,  shows  : 
"  As  I  came  from  London  homeward  in  my  coach,  I  saw 
at  every  town's  end,  a  number  of  ten  or  twelve,  standing 
with  long  staves,  and  until  I  came  to  Enfield  I  thought 
no  other  of  them  but  that  they  had  staid  for  the  avoiding 
of  the  rain,  or  to  drink  at  some  alehouses,  for  so  they  did 
stand  under  pentices  at  alehouses  ;  but  at  Enfield,  finding 
a  dozen  in  a  plump,  when  there  was  no  rain,  I  bethought 
myself  that  they  were  appointed  as  watchmen  for  the  ap 
prehending  of  such  as  are  missing ;  and  thereupon  I 
called  some  of  them  to  me  apart,  and  asked  them  where 
fore  they  stood  there,  and  one  of  them  answered,  to  take 
three  young  men  ;  and,  demanding  how  they  should  know 
the  persons,  one  answered  with  the  words,  '  Marry,  my 
lord,  by  intelligence  of  their  favor.'  '  What  mean  you  by 
that  ? '  '  Marry,'  said  they,  '  one  of  the  parties  hath  a 
hooked  nose. '  '  And  have  you,'  quoth  I, '  no  other  mark  ? ' 
'  No,'  said  they.  And  then  I  asked  who  appointed  them, 
and  they  answered  one  Banks,  a  head  constable,  whom  I 
willed  to  be  sent  to  me.  Surely,  sir,  whosoever  had  the 
charge  from  you  hath  used  the  matter  negligently;  for 
these  watchmen  stand  so  openly  in  plumps  as  no  sus 
pected  person  will  come  near  them,  and  if  they  be  no 
better  instructed  but  to  find  three  persons  by  one  of  them 
having  a  hooked  nose,  they  may  miss  thereof.  And  this 


434  NOTES. 

I  thought  good  to  advertise  you,  that  the  justices  who  had 
the  charge,  as  I  think,  may  use  the  matter  more  circum 
spectly."  Harrison  (writing  1577-87)  complains  of  the 
laxity  of  these  lesser  arms  of  the  law,  saying  :  "  That  when 
hue  and  cry  have  been  made  even  to  the  faces  of  some 
constables,  they  have  said,  '  God  restore  your  loss  !  I  have 
other  business  at  this  time. '  " 


NOTE  26.     (Page  229.) 

"  But  now  of  late  years,"  writes  Stow  (1598),  "the  use 
of  coaches,  brought  out  of  Germany,  is  taken  up,  and 
made  so  common,  as  there  is  neither  distinction  of  time 
nor  difference  of  persons  observed ;  for  the  world  runs  on 
wheels  with  many  whose  parents  were  glad  to  go  on  foot." 
As  to  their  rate  of  travel,  Mr.  Goadby  instances  that 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was  from  early  morning  to  late 
evening  of  a  January  day,  in  going  from  Bolton  Castle  to 
Ripon,  sixteen  miles.  Charles  Dudley  Warner  (in  "  The 
People  for  Whom  Shakespeare  Wrote  ")  says  that,  in  1640, 
Queen  Henrietta  was  four  days  on  the  way  from  Dover 
to  London,  the  best  road  in  England  (distance,  71 
miles) ;  and  quotes  the  Venetian  ambassador,  whose 
journey  to  Oxford  and  back  (in  all,  150  miles,  as  he 
travelled)  consumed  six  days,  his  coach  often  sticking  in 
the  mud,  and  once  breaking  down.  Queen  Mary  had 
established  a  kind  of  postal  service.  Elizabeth  had  a 
postmaster-general  in  1581.  After  the  Armada,  a  horse- 
post  was  ordered  established  in  every  town,  a  foot-post 
(to  live  near  the  church)  in  every  parish.  But  letter- 


NOTES.  435 

writers  usually  sent  their  own  messengers,  or  relied  on 
the  slow  carriers'  wagons. 


NOTE  27.     (Page  255.) 

In  this  reign,  many  were  the  cases  wherein  people  took 
vengeance  into  their  own  hands,  in  true  feudal  fashion, 
whether  from  the  heat  of  their  impulses,  or  in  view  of 
that  "  bad  execution  of  the  laws  "  and  "  neglect  of  police," 
for  which  Hume  found  it  not  easy  to  account.  Miss 
Aikin  gives  an  instance,  arising  from  a  long-standing 
feud  between  two  proud  families.  Orme,  a  servant  of 
Sir  John  Holies,  killed  in  a  duel  the  master  of  horse  to 
the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  "  The  earl  prosecuted  Orme, 
and  sought  to  take  away  his  life ;  but  Sir  John  Holies 
caused  him  to  be  conveyed  away  to  Ireland,  and  after 
ward  obtained  his  pardon  of  the  queen.  For  his  conduct 
in  this  business,  he  was  himself  challenged  by  Gervase 
Markham,  champion  and  gallant  to  the  Countess  of 
Shrewsbury ;  but  Holies  refused  the  duel,  because  the 
demand  of  Markham,  that  it  should  take  place  in  a  park 
belonging  to  the  earl,  his  enemy,  gave  him  ground  to 
apprehend  treachery.  Anxious,  however,  to  wipe  away 
the  aspersions  cast  upon  his  courage,  he  sought  a  ree'n- 
counter  which  might  wear  the  appearance  of  accident ; 
and  soon  after  he  met  Markham  on  the  road,  when  the 
parties  immediately  dismounted  and  attacked  each  other 
with  their  rapiers  ;  Markham  fell,  severely  wounded  ;  and 
the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  lost  no  time  in  raising  his  ser 
vants  and  tenantry  to  the  number  of  120,  in  order  to 


436  NOTES. 

apprehend  Holies,  in  case  Markham's  hurt  should  prove 
fatal.  On  the  other  side  Lord  Sheffield,  the  kinsman  of 
Holies,  joined  him  with  sixty  men ;  and  he  and  his  com 
pany  remained  at  Houghton  till  the  wounded  man  was 
out  of  danger.  We  do  not  find  the  queen  and  council 
interfering  to  put  a  stop  to  this  private  war."  Markham, 
who  wrote  the  poem  on  the  last  fight  of  "  The  Revenge," 
is  a  minor  but  prolific  figure  in  Elizabethan  literature. 

NOTE  28.     (Page  266.) 

Moll  Cutpurse,  whose  real  name  was  Mary  Frith,  a 
shoemaker's  daughter,  born  probably  in  1584,  is  described 
by  her  biographer  as  in  her  girlhood  a  "  very  tomrig  or 
rumpscuttle  "  who  "  delighted  and  sported  only  in  boy's 
plays  and  costume."  She  was  put  to  domestic  service, 
but  her  calling  lay  not  in  tending  children.  She  donned 
man's  attire  and  found  true  outlet  for  her  talents  as  a 
"bully,  pick-purse,  fortune-teller,  receiver,  and  forger." 
She  is  the  heroine  of  Middleton  and  Dekker's  breezy 
comedy,  "The  Roaring  Girl"  (1611),  and  of  a  work  thus 
entered  on  the  Stationers'  Register  in  August,  1610:  "A 
Booke  called  the  Madde  Prancks  of  Merry  Mall  of  the 
Bankside,  with  her  walkes  in  Man's  Apparel,  and  to 
what  purpose.  Written  by  John  Day."  Her  career  is 
set  forth  in  the  very  interesting  "  Lives  of  Twelve  Bad 
Women,"  recently  published  in  a  beautiful  edition. 

NOTE  29.     (Page  314.) 

The  use  of  firearms  was  slow  work  in  the  earlier  cen 
turies.  Concerning  the  wheel-lock,  invented  in  1515,  at 


NOTES.  437 

Nuremburg,  Greener  says :  "  When  ready  for  firing,  the 
wheel  was  wound  up,  the  flash-pan  lid  pushed  back,  and 
the  pyrites  held  in  the  cock  allowed  to  come  in  contact 
with  the  wheel.  By  pressure  on  the  trigger  a  stop  was 
drawn  back  out  of  the  wheel,  and  the  latter,  turning 
round  its  pivot  at  considerable  speed,  produced  sparks  by 
the  friction  against  the  pyrites,  and  thus  ignited  the  prim 
ing."  "  We  find  the  greater  portion  of  the  pistols  of  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  fitted  with  wheel- 
locks."  Wheel-locks  being  expensive,  the  old  match-locks, 
as  a  rule,  were  still  fitted  to  the  longer  firearms,  such  as 
the  arquebus,  of  which  Greener  says  :  "  The  slow  match  is 
kept  burning  in  a  holder  on  the  top  of  the  barrel;  the 
flash-pan  and  touch-hole  are  at  the  side.  The  serpentine 
is  hung  upon  a  pivot  passing  through  the  stock,  and  con 
tinued  past  the  pivot,  forming  a  lever  for  the  hand.  To 
discharge  the  piece,  the  match  in  the  serpentine  is  first 
brought  into  contact  with  the  burning  match  on  the 
barrel  until  ignited ;  then  by  raising  the  lever  and  mov 
ing  it  to  one  side,  the  serpentine  is  brought  into  the  prim 
ing  in  the  touch-hole,  and  the  gun  discharged,  —  though 
it  is  highly  probable  that  the  first  arquebuses  did  not 
carry  the  fire  in  a  holder  on  the  barrel,  but  only  the  match 
in  the  serpentine."  "  All  the  early  firearms  were  so  slow 
to  load,  that,  as  late  as  the  battle  of  Kuisyingen  in  1636, 
the  slowest  soldiers  managed  to  fire  seven  shots  only 
during  eight  hours." 

NOTE  30.     (Page  374.) 
In   London    the  playhouses  were  allowed  to  be  open 


438  NOTES. 

in  Lent  on  all  days  but  sermon  days,  —  Wednesday  and 
Friday.  In  1601,  Lent  began  February  25th;  Easter 
Sunday  was  April  i2th.  The  historical  year  —  conform 
ing  to  our  present  calendar  —  is  here  meant.  The  civil 
year  then  began  March  25th. 


SELECTIONS   FROM 

r'[*T1**1t-1  iiniwrttiyrir  ITTHM  «IIMIIHMMBMMHHHnHmrr3 

L__C.    PAGE  AND    COMPANY'S 
LIST   OF  FICTION 


Selections  from 
L*  C,  page  and  Company's 
List  of  fiction 


An  Enemy  to  the  King.     (Twentieth  Thousand.} 

From    the    Recently    Discovered    Memoirs    of   the 
Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.     By  ROBERT    NEILSON    STE 
PHENS.     Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  .          .          .  $1.25 

"  Brilliant  as  a  play  ;  it  is  equally  brilliant  as  a  romantic  novel."  —  Philadelphia 
Press. 

"  Those  who  love  chivalry,  fighting,  and  intrigue  will  find  it,  and  of  good  quality,  in 
this  book."  —  New  York  Critic. 

The  Continental   Dragoon.      (Eighteenth  Thousand) 

A  Romance  of  Philipse  Manor  House,  in  1778. 
By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "An  En 
emy  to  the  King."  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....  $1.50 

"  It  has  the  sterling  qualities  of  strong  dramatic  writing,  and  ranks  among  the 
most  spirited  and  ably  written  historical  romances  of  the  season.  An  impulsive  appre 
ciation  of  a  soldier  who  is  a  soldier,  a  man  who  is  a  man,  a  hero  who  is  a  hero,  is 
one  of  the  most  captivating  of  Mr.  Stephens's  charms  of  manner  and  style."  —  Boston 
Herald. 

The     Road     tO     PariS.         (Sixteenth   Thousand.} 

By  ROBERT    NEILSON    STEPHENS,    author   of  "An 
Enemy  to  the   King,"   "The   Continental  Dragoon," 
etc.     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  $1.50 

"  Vivid  and  picturesque  in  style,  well  conceived  and  full  of  action,  the  novel  is 
absorbing  from  cover  to  cover."  —  Philadelphia.  Public  Ledger. 

"  In  the  line  of  historical  romance,  few  books  of  the  season  will  equal  Robert 
Neilson  Stephens's  'The  Road  to  Paris.'  "  —  Cincinnati  Times-Star. 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


A  Gentleman   Player. 

His  Adventures  on  a  Secret  Mission  for  Queen 
Elizabeth.  By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author 
of  "An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  "The  Continental 
Dragoon,"  "The  Road  to  Paris/  etc.  Illustrated  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  450  pages  $1.50 

"  A  Gentleman  Player "  is  a  romance  of  the  Elizabethan  period. 
It  relates  the  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who,  in  the  reign  of  Eliza 
beth,  falls  so  low  in  his  fortune  that  he  joins  Shakespeare's  company 
of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and  protege  of  the  great  poet. 
Throughout  the  course  of  his  adventures  the  hero  makes  use  of  his 
art  as  an  actor  and  his  skill  as  a  swordsman,  and  the  denouement  of 
the  plot  is  brought  about  by  means  of  a  performance  by  Shakespeare's 
company  of  a  play  in  an  inn  yard. 


Rose  a  Charlitte.     (Eighth 

An  Acadien  Romance.     By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS, 
author  of  "Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  H.  De 
M.  Young. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  $1.50 

"  A  very  fine  novel  we  unhesitatingly  pronounce  it  ...  one  of  the  books  that 
stamp  themselves  at  once  upon  the  imagination  and  remain  imbedded  in  the  memory 
long  after  the  covers  are  closed."  —  Literary  World,  Boston. 


Deficient  Saints. 

A  Tale  of  Maine.    By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS,  author 
of  "Rose  a   Charlitte,"  "Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.     Illus 
trated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
i    vol.,  lib.   I2mo,  cloth,  400  pages  $1.50 

In  this  story  Marshall  Saunders  follows  closely  the  fortunes  of  a 
French  family  whose  history  is  bound  up  with  that  of  the  old  Pine- 
tree  State.  These  French  people  become  less  and  less  French  until, 
at  last,  they  are  Americans,  intensely  loyal  to  their  State  and  their 
country.  Although  "  Deficient  Saints "  is  by  no  means  a  historical 
novel,  frequent  references  are  made  to  the  early  romantic  history  of 
Maine. 


4  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

Her  Sailor,      (in  Press.) 

A  Novel.  By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS,  author  of 
"  Rose  a  Charlitte,"  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc.  Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  250  pages  $1.25 

A  story  of  modern  life  of  great  charm  and  pathos,  dealing  with 
the  love  affairs  of  a  Canadian  girl  and  a  naval  officer. 

Midst  the  Wild   Carpathians. 

By  MAURUS  JOKAI,  author  of  "  Black  Diamonds," 
"The  Lion   of  Janina,"  etc.     Authorized  translation 
by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.      Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  lib.  121110,  cloth  $1.25 

"The  story  is  absorbingly  interesting  and  displays  all  the  virility  of  Jokai's 
powers,  his  genius  of  description,  his  keenness  of  characterization,  his  subtlety  of 
humor  and  his  consummate  art  in  the  progression  of  the  novel  from  one  apparent 
climax  to  another."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

Pretty  Michal. 

A  Romance  of  Hungary.  By  MAURUS  JOKAI,  author 
of  "Black  Diamonds,"  "The  Green  Book,"  "Midst 
the  Wild  Carpathians,"  etc.  Authorized  translation 
by  R.  Nisbet  Bain.  Illustrated  with  a  photogravure 
frontispiece  of  the  great  Magyar  writer. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  325  pages  $1.50 

"It  is  at  once  a  spirited  tale  of  'border  chivalry,' a  charming  love  story  full  of 
genuine  poetry,  and  a  graphic  picture  of  life  in  a  country  and  at  a  period  both  equally 
new  to  English  readers."  —  Literary  World,  London. 

In  Kings'   Houses. 

A   Romance  of  the    Reign   of    Queen   Anne.     By 
JULIA  C.   R.   DORR,  author  of  "  A  Cathedral  Pilgrim 
age,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....          $1.50 

"  We  close  the  book  with  a  wish  that  the  author  may  write  more  romance  of  the 
history  of  England  which  she  knows  so  well."  —  Bookman,  New  York. 

"  A  fine  strong  story  which  is  a  relief  to  come  upon.  Related  with  charming 
simple  art."  —  Philadelphia  Pn'.i'.ic  Ledger. 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


Manders. 

A  Tale  of  Paris.  By  ELWYN  BARRON.  Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  350  pages  .  .  $1.50 

"  Bright  descriptions  of  student  life  in  Paris,  sympathetic  views  of  human  frailty, 
and  a  dash  of  dramatic  force,  combine  to  form  an  attractive  story.  The  book  contains 
some  very  strong  scenes,  plenty  of  life  and  color,  and  a  pleasant  tinge  of  humor. 
.  .  .  It  has  grip,  picturesqueness,  and  vivacity." — The  Speaker  (London). 

"  A  study  of  deep  human  interest,  in  which  pathos  and  humor  both  play  their  parts. 
The  descriptions  of  life  in  the  Quartier  Latin  are  distinguished  for  their  freshness  and 
liveliness."  —  Si.  James  Gazette  (London}. 

"  A  romance  sweet  as  violets." — Town  Topics  (New   York). 


*a  Old  New  York.  (/« 

A    Romance.  By  WILSON  BARRETT,  author  of  "  The 
Sign  of  the  Cross,"  etc.,  and  ELWYN  BARRON,  author 
of  "  Manders."      Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.    1 2 mo,  cloth,   350  pages      .          .          $1.50 

A  historical  romance  of  great  vigor  and  interest.  The  collabora 
tion  of  Mr.  Barrett  with  Mr.  Barron,  the  successful  author  of  "  Man 
ders,"  is  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  the  production  of  a  volume  of 
fiction  which  will  take  very  high  rank. 

Omar  the  Tentmaker. 

A  Romance  of  Old  Persia.     By  NATHAN  HASKELL 
DOLE.     Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill, 
i  vol.,  lib.  1 2 mo,  cloth          ....          $1.50 

"  The  story  itself  is  beautiful  and  it  is  beautifully  written.  It  possesses  the  true 
spirit  of  romance,  and  is  almost  poetical  in  form.  The  author  has  undoubtedly  been 
inspired  by  his  admiration  for  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam  to  write  this  story  of 
which  Omar  is  the  hero." — Troy  Times. 

"  Mr.  Dole  has  built  a  delightful  romance." —  Chicago  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  strong  and  vividly  written  story,  full  of  the  life  and  spirit  of  romance."  — 
New  Orleans  Picayune. 

The  Golden  Dog. 

A  Romance  of  Quebec.    By  WILLIAM  KIRBY.   New 
authorized  edition.      Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....          $1.25 

"  A  powerful  romance  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV.  and 
Mme.  de  Pompadour,  when  the  French  colonies  were  making  their  great  struggle  to 
retain  for  an  ungrateful  court  the  fairest  ;ewels  in  the  colonial  diadem  of  France."  - 
Neiv  York  Herald. 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


The  Making  of  a  Saint. 

By  W.   SOMERSET  MAUGHAM.      Illustrated  by  GiU 
bert  James. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 

"  An  exceedingly  strong  story  of  original  motive  and  design.  .  .  .  The  scenes  are 
imbued  with  a  spirit  of  frankness  .  .  .  and  in  addition  there  is  a  strong  dramatic 
flavor."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  A  sprightly  tale  abounding  in  adventures,  and  redolent  of  the  spirit  of  medieval 
Italy." — Brooklyn  Times. 

Friendship  and  Folly. 

A    novel.      By    MARIA    LOUISE    POOL,    author    of 
"  Dally,"  "  A  Redbridge  Neighborhood,"  "  In  a  Dike 
Shanty,"  etc.      Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....          $1.25 

"  The  author  handles  her  elements  with  skilful  fingers  —  fingers  that  feel  their  way 
most  truthfully  among  the  actual  emotions  and  occurrences  of  nineteenth  century 
romance.  Hers  is  a  frank,  sensitive  touch,  and  the  result  is  both  complete  and  full  of 
interest."  —  Boston  Ideas. 

"The  story  will  rank  with  the  best  previous  work  of  this  author."  —  Indianapolis 
News. 

The  Knight  of  King's  Guard. 

A  Romance  of  the  Days  of  the  Black  Prince.    By 
EWAN  MARTIN.     Illustrated  by  Gilbert  James. 
i  vol.,  lib.    I2mo,  cloth,   300  pages      .          .          $1.50 

An  exceedingly  well  written  romance,  dealing  with  the  romantic 
period  chronicled  so  admirably  by  Froissart.  The  scene  is  laid  at  a 
border  castle  between  England  and  Scotland,  the  city  of  London,  and 
on  the  French  battle-fields  of  Cressy  and  Poitiers.  Edward  the  Third, 
Queen  Philippa,  the  Black  Prince,  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  are  all  his 
torical  characters,  accurate  reproductions  of  which  give  life  and  vitality 
to  the  romance.  The  character  of  the  hero  is  especially  well  drawn. 

The  Rejuvenation  of  Hiss  Semaphore. 

A  farcical  novel.      By  HAL  GODFREY.     Illustrated 
by  Etheldred  B.  Barry. 
i  vol.,  lib.  121110,  cloth           ....         $1.25 

"  A  fanciful,  laughable  tale  of  two  maiden  sisters  of  uncertain  age  who  are  induced, 
by  their  natural  longing  for  a  return  to  youth  and  its  blessings,  to  pay  a  large  sum  for 
a  mystical  water  which  possesses  the  value  of  setting  backwards  the  hands  of  time. 
No  more  delightfully  fresh  and  original  book  has  appeared  since  '  Vice  Versa ' 
charmed  an  amused  world.  It  is  well  written,  drawn  to  the  life,  and  full  of  the  mos* 
enjoyable  humor."  —  Boston  Beacon. 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


Cross  Trails. 

By  VICTOR  WAITE.  Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....  $1.50 

"  A  Spanish-American  novel  of  unusual  interest,  a  brilliant,  dashing,  and  stirring 
story,  teeming  with  humanity  and  life.  Mr.  Waite  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the 
strength  with  which  he  has  drawn  his  characters."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  Every  page  is  enthralling."  —  Academy. 

"  Full  of  strength  and  reality."  —  A  thenteum. 

"  The  book  is  exceedingly  powerful."  —  Glasgow  Herald. 

The  Paths  of  the  Prudent. 

By  J.   S.   FLETCHER,  author  of  "  When  Charles  I. 
was  King,"  "  Mistress   Spitfire,"  etc.     Illustrated  by 
J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  300  pages         .          .         $1.50 

"  The  story  has  a  curious  fascination  for  the  reader,  and  the  theme  and  characters 
are  handled  with  rare  ability."  —  Scotsman. 

"  Dorinthia  is  charming.  The  story  is  told  with  great  humor."  —  Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 

"  An  excellently  well  told  story,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  perfectly  sustained  to 
the  very  end."  —  Punch. 

Bijli  the  Dancer. 

By  JAMES  BLYTHE  PATTON.     Illustrated  by  Horace 
Van  Rinth. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  .  .          $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  Modern  India.  .  .  .  The  fortunes  of  the  heroine,  an  Indian  Nautch 
girl,  are  told  with  a  vigor,  pathos,  and  a  wealth  of  poetic  sympathy  that  makes  the  book 
admirable  from  first  to  last."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  A  remarkable  book."  —  Bookman. 

"  Powerful  and  fascinating."  —  Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"  A  vivid  picture  ol  Indian  life."  —  Academy  (London). 

Drives  and  Puts. 

A  Book  of  Golf    Stories.     By  WALTER  CAMP  and 
LILLIAN  BROOKS.      Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative  .          $1.50 

Considering  the  great  and  growing  interest  in  golf,  —  perhaps  the 
king  of  sports, —  this  volume,  written  by  Walter  Camp,  the  eminent 
authority  on  sports,  in  collaboration  with  Lillian  Brooks,  the  well' 
known  writer  of  short  stories,  is  sure  to  be  a  success. 


8  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 


"  To  Arms !  " 

Being  Some  Passages  from  the  Early  Life  of  Allan 
Oliphant,   Chirurgeon,  Written  by  Himself,  and  now 
Set  Forth  for  the  First  Time.   By  ANDREW  BALFOUK. 
Illustrated  by  F.  W.  Glover, 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....         $1.50 

"A  tale  oi  '  Bonnie  Tweedside,'  and  St.  Dynans  and  Auld  Reekie,  —  a  fair  picture 
of  the  country  under  misrule  and  usurpation  and  all  kinds  of  vicissitudes.  Allan  Oli 
phant  is  a  great  hero."  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"  A  recital  of  thrilling  interest,  told  with  unflagging  vigor."  —  Globe. 

"  An  unusually  excellent  example  of  a  semi-historic  romance." —  World. 


The  River  of  Pearls;  OR,  THE  RED  SPIDER. 

(In   Press.}     A   Chinese   Romance.     By    RENE   DE 
PONT-JEST,  with  sixty  illustrations  from  original  draw 
ings  by  Felix  Regamey. 
i   vol.,  lib.    I2mo,   cloth,   300  pages     .          .         $1.50 

Close  acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Chinese 
has  enabled  the  author  to  write  a  story  which  is  instructive  as  well  as 
interesting.  The  book,  as  a  whole,  shows  the  writer  to  be  possessed 
of  a  strong  descriptive  faculty,  as  well  as  keen  insight  into  the  charac 
ters  of  the  people  of  whom  he  is  writing.  The  plot  is  cleverly  con 
ceived  and  well  worked  out,  and  the  story  abounds  with  incidents  of 
the  most  exciting  and  sensational  character.  Enjoyment  of  its  perusal 
is  increased  by  the  powerful  illustrations  of  Felix  Regamey. 

The  book  may  be  read  with  profit  by  any  one  who  wishes  to  real- 
ize  the  actual  condition  of  native  life  in  China. 


Frivolities. 

Especially  Addressed  to  Those  who  are  Tired  of 
being  Serious.     By  RICHARD  MARSH,  author  of  "  Tom 
Ossington's  Ghost,"  etc. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth,  340  pages          .         .          $1.50 

A  dozen  stories  in  an  entirely  new  vein  for  Mr.  Marsh.  The  humor 
is  irresistible,  and  carries  the  reader  on  breathlessly  from  one  laugh  to 
another.  The  style,  though  appealing  to  a  totally  different  side  of 
complex  human  nature,  is  as  strong  and  effective  as  the  author's 
intense  and  dramatic  work  in  "  Tom  Ossington's  Ghost." 


LIST    OF    FICTION. 


Via  Lucis. 

By  KASSANDRA    VIVARIA.     With    portrait    of    the 
author. 
i  vol.,  lib.  1 2 mo,  cloth           .          .          .          .         $1.50 

"  '  Via  Lucis  '  is  —  we  say  it  unhesitatingly  —  a  striking  and  interesting  production." 
—  London  Atkenteitnt. 

"  Without  doubt  the  most  notable  novel  of  the  summer  is  this  strong  story  of  Ital 
ian  life,  so  full  of  local  color  one  can  almost  see  the  cool,  shaded  patios  and  the  flame 
of  the  pomegranate  blossom,  and  smell  the  perfume  of  the  grapes  growing  on  the  hill 
sides.  It  is  a  story  of  deep  and  passionate  heart  interests,  of  fierce  loves  and  fiercer 
hates,  of  undisciplined  natures  that  work  out  their  own  bitter  destiny  of  woe.  There 
has  hardly  been  a  finer  piece  of  portraiture  than  that  of  the  child  Arduiua,  —  the  child 
of  a  sickly  and  unloved  mother  and  a  cruel  and  vindictive  father,  —  a  morbid,  queer, 
lonely  little  creature,  who  is  left  to  grow  up  without  love  or  training  of  any  kind."  —  New 
Orleans  Picayune. 


.ally  of  the  Brigade. 

A  Romance  of  the  Irish  Brigade  in  France  during 
the  Time  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.     By  L.  McMANus, 
author  of  "The  Silk  of  the  Kine,"  "The  Red  Star," 
etc.      Illustrated. 
i  vol.,  lib.   I2mo,  cloth,   250  pages      .          .          $1.25 

The  scene  of  this  romance  is  partly  at  the  siege  of  Crimona  (held 
by  the  troops  of  Louis  XIV.)  by  the  Austrian  forces  under  Prince 
Eugene.  During  the  siege  the  famous  Irish  Brigade  renders  valiant 
service,  and  the  hero  —  a  dashing  young  Irishman  —  is  in  the  thick 
of  the  fighting.  He  is  also  able  to  give  efficient  service  in  unravelling 
a  political  intrigue,  in  which  the  love  affairs  of  the  hero  and  the 
heroine  are  interwoven. 


Sons  of  Adversity. 

A  Romance  of  Queen   Elizabeth's  Time.     By  L. 
COPE  CORNFORD,   author  of  "  Captain  Jacobus,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth          ....          $1.25 

"  A  tale  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea  at  the  time  when  Protestant  England  and 
Catholic  Spain  were  struggling  for  naval  supremacy.  Spanish  conspiracies  against 
the  peace  of  good  Queen  Bess,  a  vivid  description  of  the  raise  of  the  Spanish  siege  of 
Leyden  by  the  combined  Dutch  and  English  forces,  sea  fights,  the  recovery  of  stolen 
treasure,  are  all  skilfully  woven  elements  in  a  plot  of  unusual  strength." — Pittsburg 
Bulletin. 


IO  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

The  Archbishop's  Unguarded  Moment. 

By  OSCAR  FAY  ADAMS.     Illustrated. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  decorative           .          .          $1.25 

Mr.  Adams  is  well  known  as  a  writer  of  short  stories.  As  the  title 
indicates,  these  stories  deal  with  dignitaries  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 
The  mingled  pathos  and  humor,  which  Mr.  Adams  has  handled  so 
admirably  in  describing  his  characters,  make  a  book  of  more  thai 
average  interest  for  the  reader  of  fiction. 


Captain  Fracasse. 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Gautier.     By  ELLEN 
MURRAY  BEAM.      Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  .          .  .          $1.25 

"  The  story  is  one  of  the  best  in  romantic  fiction,  for  upon  it  Gautier  lavished  his 
rare  knowledge  of  the  twelfth  century."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  One  of  those  rare  stories  in  which  vitality  is  abundant."  —  New  York  Herald. 


The  Count  of  Nideck. 

From  the  French  of  Erckmann-Chatrian,  translated 
and  adapted  by  RALPH  BROWNING  FISKE.    Illustrated 
by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
i  vol.,  lib.  121110,  cloth          ....         $1.25 

" '  The  Count  of  Nideck,'  adapted  from  the  French  of  Erckmann  -  Chatrian  by 
Ralph  Browning  Fiske,  is  a  most  interesting  tale,  simply  told,  and  moving  with  direct 
force  to  the  end  in  view."  —  Minneapolis  Times. 

"  Rapid  in  movement,  it  abounds  in  dramatic  incident,  furnishes  graphic  descrip 
tions  of  the  locality  and  is  enlivened  with  a  very  pretty  love  story."  —  Troy  Budget. 


JViuriella;   OR,   LE   SELVE. 

By  OUIDA.     Illustrated  by  M.  B.  Prendergast. 
I  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth  ....          $1.25 

"  Ouida's  literary  style  is  almost  perfect  in  '  Muriella.'  "  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 
" '  Muriella '   is   an  admirable  example  of  the  author's  best  work."  —  Brooklyn 
Times. 

"  It  dwells  in  the  memory,  and  bears  the  dramatic  force,  tragic  interest,  and  skilful- 
ness  of  treatment  that  mark  the  work  of  Ouida  when  at  her  best."  —  Pittsburg  Bulletin, 


LIST    OF    FICTION.  II 


Bobbie  McDuff. 

By  CLINTON  Ross,  author  of  "The  Scarlet  Coat," 
"  Zuleika,"  etc.     Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
i  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth       ....         $1.00 

" '  Bobbie  McDuff,'  by  Clinton  Ross,  is  a  healthy  romance,  tersely  and  vigorously 
told."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

"  It  is  full  of  mystery  and  as  fascinating  as  a  fairy  tale."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  well-written  story,  full  of  surprises  and  abounding  in  vivid  interest." —  The 
Congregationalist,  Boston. 

The  Shadow  of  a  Crime. 

A  Cumbrian  Romance.     By  HALL  CAINE,  author  of 
"The  Manxman,"  "The  Deemster,"  etc.,  with  twelve 
full-page   illustrations   in  half-tone,  from  drawings   by 
M.  B.  Prendergast. 
i  vol.,  cloth,  illustrated,  gilt  top    .         .         .         $1.25 


The  Works  of  Gabriel  d' Annunzio. 

The  Triumph  of  Death. 
The   Intruder. 

The  flaidens  of  the   Rocks. 
The  Child  of  Pleasure. 

Each,  i  vol.,  lib.  I2mo,  cloth         .          .          .          $1.50 

"The  writer  of  the  greatest  promise  to-day  in  Italy,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
unique  figures  in  contemporary  literature,  is  Gabriel  d'Annunzio,  the  poet-novelist."  - 
The  Bookman. 

"  This  book  is  realistic.  Some  say  that  it  is  brutally  so.  But  the  realism  is  that  of 
Flaubert  and  not  of  Zola.  There  is  no  plain  speaking  for  the  sake  of  plain  speaking. 
Every  detail  is  justified  in  the  fact  that  it  illuminates  either  the  motives  or  the  actions 
of  the  man  and  woman  who  here  strsnd  revealed.  It  is  deadly  true.  The  author  holds 
the  mirror  up  to  nature,  and  the  reader,  as  he  sees  his  own  experiences  duplicated  in 
passage  after  passage,  has  something  of  the  same  sensation  as  all  of  us  know  on  the 
first  reading  of  George  Meredith's  '  Egoist.'  Reading  these  pages  is  like  being  out  in 
the  country  on  a  dark  night  in  a  storm.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  comes  and  every 
detail  of  your  surroundings  is  revealed."  —  Review  of  the  Triumph,  of  Death,  in  the 
Ne-w  York  Evening  Sun. 


12  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

Mademoiselle  de  Berny. 

A  Story  of  Valley  Forge.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD 
MACKIE.  With  five  full-page  photogravures  from 
drawings  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Printed    on    deckle-edged    paper,    with    gilt    top,   and 
bound  in  cloth.      272  pages  .          .          .          $1.50 

"The  charm  of  'Mademoiselle  de  Berny'  lies  in  its  singular  sweetness."  - 
Boston  Herald. 

"  One  of  the  very  few  choice  American  historical  stories." —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Real  romance  .  .  .   admirably  written."  —  Washington  Post. 

"  A  stirring  romance,  full  of  life  and  action  from  start  to  finish."  —  Toledo  Daily 
Blade. 

"  Of  the  many  romances  in  which  Washington  is  made  to  figure,  this  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating,  one  of  the  best."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Ye  Lyttle  Salem  Maide. 

A  Story  of  Witchcraft.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD 
MACKIE,  with  four  full-page  photogravures  from  draw 
ings  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

Printed    on    deckle-edged    paper,    with    gilt    top,    and 
bound  in  cloth.      321  pages  .          .          .          $1.50 

A  tale  of  the  days  of  the  reign  of  superstition  in  New  England, 
and  of  a  brave  "  lyttle  maide,"  of  Salem  Town,  whose  faith  and  hope 
and  unyielding  adherence  to  her  word  of  honor  form  the  basis  of  a 
most  attractive  story.  Several  historical  characters  are  introduced, 
including  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  and  Governor  and  Lady  Phipps, 
and  a  very  convincing  picture  is  drawn  of  Puritan  life  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  An  especial  interest  is  added  to  the 
book  by  the  illustrations,  reproduced  by  the  photogravure  process 
from  originals  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

In  Guiana  Wilds. 

A  Study  of  Two  Women.  By  JAMES  RODWAY, 
author  of  "  In  the  Guiana  Forest,"  etc.  Illustrated, 
i  vol.,  library  I2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover,  250 
pages  ........  $1.25 

"  In  Guiana  Wilds  "  may  be  described  as  an  ethnological  romance. 
A  typical  young  Scotchman  becomes,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
decivilized,  and  mates  with  a  native  woman. 

It  is  a  psychological  study  of  great  power  and  ability. 


LIST    OF    FICTION.  13 

Vivian  of  Virginia. 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Our  First  Rebellion,  by  John 
Vivian,  Esq.,  of  Middle  Plantation,  Virginia.  By  HUL- 
BERT  FULLER.  With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by 
Frank  T.  Merrill. 

i    vol.,     library     121110,    cloth,    gilt    top,    deckle-edge 
paper  .......          $1.50 

"  A  stirring  and  accurate  account  of  the  famous  Bacon  rebellion."  —  Los  A  ngeles 
Sunday  Times. 

"  We  shall  have  to  search  far  to  find  a  better  colonial  story  than  this."  —  Denver 
Republican. 

"A  well-conceived,  well-plotted  romance,  full  of  life  and  adventure." —  Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  story  abounding  in  exciting  incidents  and  well-told  conversations."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  Mr.  Fuller  will  find  a  large  circle  of  readers  for  his  romance  who  will  not  be  dis 
appointed  in  their  pleasant  expectations."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Instead  of  using  history  as  a  background  for  the  exploits  of  the  hero,  the  author 
used  the  hero  to  bring  out  history  and  the  interesting  events  of  those  early  days  in 
Virginia.  The  author  has  preserved  the  language  and  customs  of  the  times  admir 
ably."  —  Philadelphia  Telegram. 


The  Gray  House  of  the  Quarries. 

By  MARY  HARRIOTT  NORRIS.     With  a  frontispiece 
etching  by  Edmund  H.   Garrett. 
i  vol.,  8vo,  cloth,  500  pages  .          .         .          $1.50 

"The  peculiar  genre,  for  which,  in  a  literary  sense,  all  must  acknowledge  obliga 
tion  to  the  author  of  a  new  type,  is  the  Dutch  -  American  species.  The  church-goings, 
the  courtings,  the  pleasures  and  sorrows  of  a  primitive  people,  their  lives  and  deaths, 
weddings,  suicides,  births  and  burials,  are  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  pictures  on  a  fresh 
canvas."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"The  fine  ideal  of  womanhood  in  a  person  never  once  physically  described  will 
gratify  the  highest  tone  of  the  period,  and  is  an  ennobling  conception."  —  Time  and 
The  Hour,  Boston. 


14       L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S    LIST    OF    FICTION. 

A  Man=at=Arms. 

A  Romance  of  the  days  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti, 
the  Great  Viper.  By  CLINTON  SCOLLARD,  author  ot 
"  Skenandoa,"  etc.  With  six  full-page  illustrations 
and  title-page  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 
i  vol.,  library  I2ino,  cloth,  gilt  top,  deckle-edge 
paper  .......  $1.50 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Italy,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  hero,  Luigi  della  Verria,  unable  to  bear 
the  restrictions  of  home  or  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  profession  of 
law,  as  desired  by  his  father,  leaves  his  family  and,  as  the  result  of 
chance,  becomes  a  man-at-arms  in  the  service  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Vis 
conti,  the  cunning  and  unscrupulous  Lord  of  Pavia,  known  as  the 
Great  Viper.  Thenceforward  the  vicissitudes  and  adventures,  both 
in  love  and  war,  of  Della  Verria,  are  told  in  a  way  to  incite  the  in 
terest  to  the  highest  point ;  and  a  strong  picture  is  drawn  of  Italian 
life  at  this  period,  with  its  petty  vendettas,  family  broils,  and  the  un 
principled  methods  employed  by  the  heads  of  noble  families  to  gain 
their  personal  ends. 

An  individual  value  is  added  to  the  book  by  the  illustrations  and 
title-page,  drawn  by  Mr.  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

"  The  style  is  admirable,  simple,  direct,  fluent,  and  sometimes  eloquent ;  and  the 
story  moves  with  rapidity  from  start  to  finish."  —  The  Bookman. 
"  A  good  story."  —  N.  Y.  Commercial  A  dvertiser. 
It  is  a  triumph  in  style."  —  Utica  Herald. 


Cyrano  de  Bergerac. 

A  Heroic  Comedy  from  the  French  of  Edward  Ros- 
stand,  as  accepted  and  played  by  Richard  Mansfield. 
Translated  by  HOWARD  THAYER  KINGSBURY. 
i  vol.,  cloth   decorative,  with  a  photogravure  frontis 
piece    ........         $1.00 

i  vol.,  paper  boards      .  .          .  -5<> 

The  immediate  and  prolonged  success  of  "Cyrano  de  Bergerac," in 
Paris,  has  been  paralleled  by  Mr.  Mansfield's  success  with  an  English 
version,  dating  from  its  first  night  at  the  Garden  Theatre,  New  York, 
October  3,  1898. 

As  a  literary  work,  the  original  form  of  Rostand  took  high  rank ; 
and  the  preference  of  Mr.  Mansfield  for  Mr.  Kingsbury's  new  trans 
lation  implies  its  superior  merit. 


